


Brick by Brick

by Toffle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Final Haikyuu Quest, Gen, M/M, Minor Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5920378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toffle/pseuds/Toffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the defeat of the Grand King Oikawa, Iwaizumi seeks the Hero's help to save his best friends life, and hopes that they can start again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From the Ground

The battlefield sat in silence. Ever victorious in the struggle against the dark forces, Hinata Shouyou had not stopped to admire the remains—the aftermath. Dust clouded the air, a fine haze settling around the destruction. Footprints led a faded path back towards the party’s camp, not far into the woods. They had returned to tend to the injured, the fallen. Not everyone had left the battle unscathed.

Iwaizumi stood amongst the remnants of the Grand King’s castle. The last pillar that refused to fall. No one had argued against his decision to remain behind, to mourn the loss of a life, a home, a history. Exhausted from the fight, they left him to grieve, and for that Iwaizumi was grateful, even when his stomach turned as the white mage Kozume paused in his departure to eye Iwaizumi over a shoulder. Even now, alone amongst the rubble, the weight of Kozume's gaze lingered on his back.

Iwaizumi turned his focus back to the crumbled remains of the once proud castle and began to dig, shedding his armour as he went, discarding the hampering metal like so much trash. Precious seconds ticked away as he scrambled to follow their escape path back into the castle. Each passing moment rang like the final nail in that idiot's coffin.

Retracing the route wasn’t difficult. The hard part was discerning where the rubble ended and the building began. Unstable and dangerous, rocks shifted underfoot as Iwaizumi cleared debris from the structure. Still, he had to be close.

The loose, shattered tiles parted beneath his feet to take the pattern of the main hall. He had grown up in this castle, knew every hallway and passage it contained. To see such destruction in what had once been his home made his stomach twist. However, it was nothing in the face of the panicked chill that lodged itself deep in those coils. The feeling persisted until his eyes met a familiar, yet tarnished, black coat amongst the dust and rubble. “Thank you...”

For a fleeting moment, Iwaizumi thought fortune had favoured him, but the moment was brief. Fortune was not so kind; overhead, various bricks and bars struggled to support the ceiling, dust crumbling. Not much time now.

Iwaizumi approached on tiptoes and knelt on the floor, tilting enough to see the small cove that kept his unconscious king from being crushed. It wasn't wise to move him, but necessity trumped wisdom as Iwaizumi spied the copper across the tiles, still wet from something impaled through the demon’s leg. 

“Oikawa? Oikawa!” No response. Iwaizumi moved closer and reached through the shoulder width gap, placing his hand over the man's chest. Hope flickered as it rose and fell. “If you die now, I'll drag you back from hell and kill you myself, dumbass. Hold on.”

Iwaizumi cast around for something—anything—to further prop up the ceiling. Chunks of rock and splintered wood were all he had at hand, but he could still use them to ease the pressure off his oldest friend and most recent enemy. Oikawa was lucky. The burst of energy had shot outwards and sent them flying before it blasted through the building. Had it not been such a tremendous force, Oikawa may have been trapped, or even crushed, without a shred of doubt.

He was alive for now, but like sand in an hourglass, he was slipping away all too quickly. Iwaizumi braced the wall, and with a prayer, lifted it with the help of a broken beam. The bricks groaned and crumbled as the mass above him shifted in complaint. He held his breath and heaved until the beam angled just right against a stable wall, and prayed that it would stay. He backed away, cautious, hands lingering as he watched it tremble. It seemed stable. Mostly. For how long, he couldn't guess.

Iwaizumi crouched to survey his king's injuries. “Shit.” A lump formed in his throat as he leant over and trailed his hand down the wet fabric of Oikawa's leg, continuing until it met an obstacle. By some blessing, whatever was through his leg stood unattached to anything holding up the cavity. He brushed dirt and debris away from Oikawa – froze. His breath caught as he pulled out something that was neither stone nor wood and held it to the low light from the filtered sun above.

Iwaizumi dropped the broken half of Oikawa's horn with a jolt. He suppressed a shudder and took a dusty breath; no time for that. It was too dark, too cluttered, too _much_ down here for him to tell what was wrong with Oikawa. Though his options weren't good, he made his choice. He struggled to his feet, hauling Oikawa out by the shreds of his coat.  
  
He kept moving until he collapsed in an open area free from the wreckage. At least nothing could crush them here. Iwaizumi paused for breath, unclenching his grip from the fabric. Oikawa's black uniform was white with dust save for dark patches soaking through, dripping red to the stone. He pushed vivid images of punctured and torn skin away and stripped back the cloth to reveal the wounds.  
  
Scratches and bruises and burns littered Oikawa's skin. Iwaizumi could see the places where bones protruded, broken from Oikawa's sudden impact with the stone floor. By a miracle they hadn't pierced the skin, unlike the other wide wounds staining Iwaizumi’s fingers. He had long grown up cursing Oikawa's stubbornness, but now, he blessed it with every shallow, wet breath taken.  
  
Iwaizumi traced the wounds caused in the battle against Hinata with shaky fingers, temper flashing with each future scar. He ripped the base of Oikawa's coat with a grunt and used it to wrap the larger wounds, stemming the blood loss and pinning tight the imbedded debris. There was no telling how much Oikawa had bled. Pale under the dust coat, his heart continued to fight for each beat.

He needed help. There wasn't a healer for miles – the locals had cleared out with the battle preparations – but there was a _mage._ Where the new hero rested, safe amongst friends, Kozume wouldn’t be far. Hinata had a good heart, and if this was their only shot, then so be it. Without immediate aid, Oikawa would die here or on the road. The decision was clear.

~*~

“Hold it!”

Iwaizumi stopped. The guards at the camp entrance drew their weapons, barring him from the gate. He faced them, shifting Oikawa's weight on his back so that he could stand taller. “Go get Hinata. Tell him Iwaizumi has returned.” His request fell on deaf ears as the wide-eyed guards took sight of the face drooling on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Their shocked faces hardened as they levelled sword and spear at the ready. Iwaizumi set his stance. “Go already, one of you!”

“Sir!” The soldier remained where he stood, sword shaking in his tight grip. “That's the Grand King. We can't let you just walk in with that!”

“Bring Hinata _here_. That's an order.” Iwaizumi clenched his teeth together, jaw tight. Of course it looked bad, returning from the battlefield wreckage with the demonic king when he had originally come from his service. He didn’t care. He had travelled and fought side by side with the hero too long to entertain the idea of betrayal to either side of his history.

Iwaizumi chewed his cheek as one minute bled into two, a wet and dire warmth against his skin. Their stances held firm until a round-faced guard relented and ducked between the cracked gates of the rough wood barricade with a hiss at his compatriot that Iwaizumi didn’t catch. The remaining guard kept his weapon trained steady.

Iwaizumi adjusted Oikawa’s weight so he could reach the sword at his side if it came to that, but made no move towards it. He had no desire to fight with a broken man on his back. Minutes passed like hours, dust hanging around them, but soon, the gate opened. More than the one guard stamped out behind Hinata and Kageyama, still dirty and bloody and footsore. The soldiers behind him cowered the moment their eyes landed on the unconscious king, their fears confirmed.

Kageyama's eyes flashed. “Iwaizumi-san, explain yourself!”

“Kageyama, Hinata.” This was it. He forced himself to relax as his heart thrummed against his ribs. _Tread carefully, Hajime._

Iwaizumi knelt to roll Oikawa off his back and to the ground, careful to move slow and steady as he stood between his charge and the guards. He shut out their whispers to focus on the two men before him, so recently companions, and now... Iwaizumi hoped they would not become enemies, not so quickly. He tensed when Kageyama stepped forward and reached for his quiver. Iwaizumi flinched, naked without the protection of his armour. Still, experience had taught him that this was just precaution. Kageyama would not shoot.

Hinata tilted his head, confusion in his young face, and placed a hand on Kageyama's arm. The tension of the bow did not falter, but Kageyama's fingers twitched in irritation around the leather grip. Hinata kept his hand in place.

“Didn't we defeat the Grand King?”

Iwaizumi unclenched his jaw. “You did. In a sense.” Hinata looked between the body on the floor and Iwaizumi, opening and closing his mouth.

“Oh... Oh good. Okay so, that’s not a dead body. For a moment I thought— Wait, actually...” Hinata’s grimace jumped to confusion. “That doesn’t explain anything! Not that I don’t believe that we defeated him ‘cause I mean hey, he’s right there! And _that’s_ pretty dangerous y’know, if he’s not actually...well— _y’know_. Iwaizumi-san, you’re not really... This doesn’t look good?” His words trailed off as he stopped pacing and flitting to look Iwaizumi in the eye.

“Hinata, I swear, I’ll explain everything.” Iwaizumi took a step forward, but exhaustion weighed him down. He knelt and bowed his head before the hero (and caught the startled gasp that escaped him). “However, I need Kozume. You have every right to say no, but Oikawa will die without his help, and I won’t let that happen.”

“What?”

“Iwaizumi-san, what are you saying?” Kageyama lowered the bow, arrow still nocked. “We came here to put an end to Oikawa-san, and we did. Do you know what you’re asking?”

“Of course I know!” Iwaizumi didn’t raise his head, but the bark of his voice still carried too far. He took a deep breath. “I didn’t lie when said I wanted to stop him, but I never intended to kill Oikawa. That’s not how we work.” The silence dragged on, loyalty and prejudice and hatred boiling in the air at the gate. Iwaizumi hissed a curse through his teeth, twisting his fist further into the dirt. Of course this would fail. His only real option was proving as fruitless as the others. “Look, you can lock both of us up and throw away the key once he’s fixed. I won’t stop you, but. Please.” He glanced up at Hinata, expecting outright hostility. Hinata’s bright eyes just blinked at him, as unreadable as Oikawa’s as a child. Kageyama watched on like a hawk with the same suspicion and trepidation as when Iwaizumi first approached them about an alliance.

“Hinata?” Kageyama barked, a particular tone usually followed by at least five insults. None came, and Kageyama dropped back into silence, face contorting.

Iwaizumi waited, watching as Hinata closed his eyes, brow furrowing. When the hero spun on his heel to face the gate, Iwaizumi steeled himself for the worst.

“Get Kenma! I know he’s tired, but there’s one more thing he’s gotta do.”

Iwaizumi started. Kageyama’s jaw flopped open to gape at his partner. “Are you mad? As in actually insane?”

Hinata crossed his arms. “I trust Iwaizumi-san.” He turned to Iwaizumi, who continued to stare at him, still frozen in the dirt. “But now you have to tell us everything, okay? I can’t guarantee the Gra- that he’ll live, but... yeah. Don’t keep any more secrets.”

Iwaizumi felt his tension drain down into the earth. “Thank you.” He spun on his knees to check on Oikawa, straightening limbs and turning his head to the side.

Not a minute later, Iwaizumi’s attention was yanked away from Oikawa by a commotion at the gate. He listened as a guard shouted for the area to be cleared, watched as the throng of people blocking the way fled and a short man in white pushed his way out into the small clearing, hood pulled low to hide all but his mouth and the ends of his long hair. When he got close enough to see both Oikawa and Iwaizumi without pushing it back, his lip curled even as his eyes stayed level.

“This was your motive, Iwaizumi?”

“Kozum–”

“Kenma!” Hinata burst into the space between them to grab Kozume by the arm. “Kenma, you’re here! Kageyama thinks it’s totally stupid, but we gotta help the Grand King. Come on!”

“Why.” But it was more hypothetical than a question. Kozume sighed and freed himself from Hinata’s hold and crouched, staff in the circle of his arms between his knees. “Stop touching him. And me. Please.”

Iwaizumi and Hinata parted, Hinata backing away from Kozume and Iwaizumi snatching his hand back from its resting spot above Oikawa’s heart. Iwaizumi held his breath as Kozume leant over him, spinning his staff around so the glowing crystal at the top hovered over Oikawa. Silence clung as the glow pulsed, pulsed, pulsed… faded into nothing. Kozume’s sharp eyes snapped up to Iwaizumi’s, framed by dark circles. “He’s lost a lot of blood. You’re lucky he’s not dead yet.”

Iwaizumi’s own blood ran cold. “Can you help him?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Kozume drawled, already hovering his staff back over his new patient as a new aura spread itself across Oikawa’s body in a bright wave. “I make no promises. Shouyou, I need Aone.”

“On it. Kageyama, stay and make sure they don’t die!”

“Of course, dumba— Wait! Hold on a second!” But Hinata was gone before he could finish. Iwaizumi watched Kageyama deflate, shoulders sagging and chin falling to his chest. It had to be tough on Kageyama, who switched his allegiance from the now former king long before Iwaizumi’s own departure. He had been ready to let loose an arrow into Oikawa just minutes ago, and now he had to defend him. As long as his archery skill was on Iwaizumi’s side, Kageyama could think whatever he wanted.

He turned his focus back to Oikawa. He wasn’t used to feeling weak, or defenceless, or terrified about what the world would be at sunset. The two of them had fought before, wins and losses, but always side by side, always together. He was always able to affect the outcome, _protect_. But this wasn’t his battlefield. He balled his fists on his knees and turned his face away from the clinging audience.

~*~

When Hinata returned with the monk Aone, Oikawa was shrouded beneath a pale white glow without a visible change. Kozume had clamped shut once Hinata left, focus turned inward and face as indicative as the crystal on his staff. Iwaizumi had always been taught not to interrupt a healer in work, but the silence was eating away at him like a secret. He didn’t even look up as Aone arrived, just crooked a finger and pointed at the dirt at his side by Oikawa’s leg. “Get this thing out.” Aone just nodded at the terse order as he knelt.

Aone’s broad shoulders and bare chest didn’t give the impression of a skilled healer, but he had saved Iwaizumi’s life during an ambush on the road before Kozume had joined the group. He and Kozume could do more for Oikawa than Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi’s helplessness suffocated him. He itched to do something useful, something to help, but all he could touch were the rocks digging into his palms. Knights and magic never mixed well. He looked away as Aone got to work, unpleasant squelches around the wooden stake more than enough for him to recoil. It was disorienting, all of those minor and major scrapes and cuts on Oikawa not healing themselves like they had since they were small. It felt… final. Damning. 

Hinata’s campfire hair knelt beside Iwaizumi, closer than he had dared to get at their first camp built together. He coughed, a fake one that turned real on the dust coating all their lungs. “Iwaizumi-san.”

The knight glanced at Hinata out of the corner of his eye, but he was staring down at Oikawa, the red slashes stitching up under white light unseen by his sharp sun-brown eyes.  He had learnt early on not to take Hinata at face value; just because he looked like he was barely out of childhood didn’t stop him from defeating monsters twice his size with a freakish quick attack and more force than should be contained by something that Iwaizumi could throw over a wall. Yet, for all of Hinata’s offence, it was his ability to forgive without penalty that disarmed Iwaizumi the most. Now, he didn’t look at Oikawa with rage or hate or fear or any of the emotions Iwaizumi had deflected for so long, just pure sunlight as unreadable as Kozume’s bowed hood.

“You said there was more to this story.” Hinata gestured to Oikawa, careful to avoid entering the aura that surrounded him. He looked up at last, scorching Iwaizumi with direct eye contact. “Wanna talk?”

Iwaizumi released a deep breath. He glanced up as Kageyama’s legs approached and stopped at Hinata’s side, standing at guard. The front gate was as secure as their forces could make them, but even so, it wasn’t as safe as being inside the barricade. Just because the war was over didn’t mean that the fighting had stopped. The threat of the former king’s loyalists rising up in Oikawa’s name remained, as well as the monsters that lurked deep into the forest trying to take control over an unstable human population. Despite that, Iwaizumi knew they wouldn’t be moving Oikawa beyond the gate any time soon. He trusted Kageyama and had faith in the young man’s old respect for himself and his former king. If he truly wanted to kill Oikawa, he would have done it already. Iwaizumi turned his focus back to Hinata.

“I came to you with the knowledge that I was Oikawa’s knight before I defected. I served him for years, but I guess you should know it wasn’t always my job. Wasn’t _just_ a job.”

“What do you mean?”

“I grew up inside the castle walls, Hinata. Not the city itself.” Iwaizumi sighed. “My parents served the royal family. My mother was a noblewoman, and my father was the captain of the royal guard. Because I am... _was_ a noble child, I had ‘expectations’ to live up to, but I spent most of my time hiding in the training grounds with a sword.”

Hinata’s mouth curved around a silent ‘ _oh_ ’ as he nodded. “So you grew up in the castle with Oikawa-san? Were you his friend back then?”

“‘Friend’ is a bit of a stretch. The noble children were supposed to socialise together, but he made me laugh. Really, it was just politics. I didn’t get that at first. Oikawa did.”

He spared a glance at Oikawa’s prone form. Some of the minor wounds, scratches and nicks caused by debris had faded, but the concerning holes still gaped. He looked away again, teeth grinding. “We did grow up together. Oikawa was... a good person. Somewhere in there. Annoying as shit, though.” Iwaizumi paused, glaring at nothing. “He handled his role as prince to an arrogant T, but he wasn’t ignorant. Just really good at pretence. A two-faced bastard without ill intent. In his position it was needed, and I get that now, but it was still aggravating.” His glare softened, his thumb rubbing circles into his index finger. “You know, for all the demon that Oikawa is, demons themselves are not inherently evil beings.”

Hinata huffed. “I don’t understand,” he said, sitting back to share a glance with Kageyama. “One of the first things any kid learns growing up is to beware the dark forces.”

“That’s true, and you’re not wrong, but there’s a difference. It’s hard to explain... Demons came from the dark lands, so they share a realm with dark forces, but they aren’t actually the dark forces _themselves_. Oh, how the hell do I explain this...” Iwaizumi frowned, scratching his filthy scalp as he frowned at the patch of foot-heavy dirt between his knees and the light around Oikawa. “Demons have this – magical energy, right? They can use that dark energy because they’re naturally connected to it. It’s like... Shit, uh...”

“It’s called ‘mana’,” Kozume’s flat voice interrupted without stopping his work. “It’s a practical thing, Shouyou, and it inherently has no allegiance, light or dark. It just is...” He hummed, not quite a melody, and the glow around them pulsed. “A human’s use of it can only be affected by their intent, just like any other tool. But a demon’s connection is… messier. Isn’t that right, Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi nodded and cleared his throat, ignoring Hinata’s confusion. “Oikawa was never evil, but the pressure of the throne _which he never told me about_ was too much for that balance he was forced to keep. Then the whole issue with the damn orbs and the princess came along, and then that ‘prophecy’ – well, it was too little too late when I noticed.”

“Corruption.” Kozume’s glow throbbed red.

“Yeah, that... happened.” Carding a hand through his hair, Iwaizumi sighed and bit the lining of his cheek, his stomach heavy. “I tried to help, then I tried to keep him in line, but it was too fast. When we discovered the prophesised hero was on the move, Oikawa panicked and just – snapped. It was a shipwreck. Everything broke, and we started to sink.”

Iwaizumi refused to look up to see what Kageyama’s face looked like. The cracks in Oikawa had been visible to everyone, and Kageyama had been no exception. He didn’t need Kageyama taking on guilt for the things that most had never spared thought to.

“Sir...” Kageyama cleared his throat. “Iwaizumi—”

“It’s fine, Kageyama. Believe it or not, I left after what he did to you.” He scowled. “He went too far that time. I thought – surely, if I join the ‘Hero’s Quest’ I could beat some sense into that damned thick skull of his. Maybe the shock of me leaving would have an impression... Well. Didn’t work.” He gestured at Oikawa on the ground, the smoking ruins of the castle on the horizon.

Things should never have gone this far. He had failed Oikawa when he needed him most, and the sting of that was worse than any blade wound. Failure to protect a tyrannical king was hardly something he felt shame over, but failing to protect his closest friend? That cut deep.

Iwaizumi was pulled from his thoughts by the uncharacteristic curse under Kozume’s breath as Oikawa twitched and tensed. A choking gasp left his throat, but he did not wake. Iwaizumi looked between the two, breath stopped. “Aone, Kozume, what’s happening?”  
  
“Oikawa has no mana left. Shouyou’s attack forced it out.” Kozume hissed, and the white glow surrounding Oikawa became opaque. Hinata hovered as Kozume tensed up and pushed against nothing. Aone crawled back and away from it. Iwaizumi watched them, frozen.

Kozume spared him a weak glance, not enough energy for a glare. “My magic is unwelcome in his system. We’re incompatible, oil and water. Useless.”

With a final push, Kozume collapsed back onto his heels, staff abandoned at his side. The white aura dissipated from around Oikawa, and Kozume released a deep sigh. Aone came back to the divots where his knees had been to finishing dressing the last of the open wounds. Kozume wiped his brow – was he actually _sweating?_ “This is the best that I can do. Sorry.”

Was that it? Was he okay? Oikawa remained pale, though he couldn’t deny that he seemed to breathe easier. He had to trust Kozume. Iwaizumi bowed his head low against the flood of cold relief. “Thank you. All of you. Whatever needs to be done, just ask. Please.”

“The worst of the wounds are stable,” Kozume explained, “no longer life-threatening with the right care.”  He collected his staff from the floor and braced himself against it to stand. “They will take time to heal naturally, and infection could set in.” Kozume sighed and tugged at his hood, legs wobbling. Hinata was at his side immediately, steadying him as he swayed. “Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just get me to a bed,” Kozume said, but first he levelled Iwaizumi with a careful stare. “What will you do now?”

Iwaizumi looked down to Oikawa, and then back up to orange and white. He opened a hand at Hinata, who nodded once, hair bobbing.

“Right!” Hinata turned back to the gate and called to the guards. “Let’s get the Ki- Oikawa! Let’s get Oikawa-san inside!” He turned back to Iwaizumi, arm around Kozume’s waist. “You coming?” Iwaizumi nodded. Hinata beamed and helped Kozume back inside, talking quietly.

Not long after they disappeared behind the gates, the standing audience trickling in behind them, two guards arrived with a stretcher to relocate Oikawa. Aone left with them, keeping pace beside it as he held pressure on a bled-through bandage. The two guards’ hard faces didn’t lift at the state of Oikawa – not everyone was as quick to change their mind as Hinata. Oh well. He and Kageyama were the last two left outside the gates, Kageyama’s dark eyes flitting through the trees fifty yards away, bow at the ready. Iwaizumi walked over and clapped him on the back. “Thank you, Kageyama. I owe you.”

“No, it’s... You don’t.” Kageyama took the arrow off the string and jammed it back in his quiver, stepping on the end of his longbow to hold it steady and unstring it. “I get it.”

Iwaizumi almost smiled at the flush high on Kageyama’s cheeks. “His name has spread across the world now,” he murmured. “Yours too. You make a good team, so take care of him.” He patted Kageyama’s back a few more times before leading the way back inside, Kageyama a beat late to follow.

~*~

Iwaizumi startled out of his light doze the next morning to the sounds of camp coming to life. True to Iwaizumi’s promise, Oikawa had been locked away whether a necessary precaution or not, and so Iwaizumi had opted to sleep nearby. Wary of someone coming to take Oikawa’s life in the night, Iwaizumi refused to let exhaustion take him, opting to keep an eye out for potential assassins. With the passionate hatred towards the former king expected, Iwaizumi knew better than to underestimate the motives of others.

Aone arrived with breakfast and fresh bandages sometime after dawn. Iwaizumi watched him redress Oikawa’s remaining wounds, asking questions as he ate that Aone grunted answers to. Only after Aone left did Hinata bounce to Iwaizumi’s side, calling out to him with too much energy for the morning. Iwaizumi waited as Hinata stomped to a halt and folded his arms, humming to himself as he picked his words.

“Iwaizumi-san! We had a discussion this morning about Oikawa— Ah!” Hinata stopped, tripping over his tongue to explain himself. “Not that we were leaving you out or anything! We weren’t keeping things from you, I swear!”

“I’m not mad, Hinata. Please carry on.”

“Right, well we were talking over breakfast, and everyone’s had some time to y’know, calm down, right?” Hinata waved his hand in the general direction of the main area of the camp. “They’re willing to give the Gra- Oikawa-san a chance! Well, actually it’s more like most of the people agreed to not, uh, go for the death sentence. Sorry, on second thought, that was probably really awful to hear. Wait, no, that came out wrong! I mean— Crap.”

Iwaizumi just smiled. “That’s good to know. Is there anything else?”

Hinata dithered, glancing through the cell bars to the still-unconscious Oikawa. “We’ll be holding a real discussion soon, so you can come with me, or come over in a bit. I’ll post a guard here so no one tries anything underhanded!”

Iwaizumi pushed to his feet and sighed, “It’s okay, I’ll come now. Let’s get this over with.” Hinata nodded and spun on his heel to bounce back through the main throng of the camp, Iwaizumi at his side.

They arrived to several tired faces around a small fire, all the main members of the hero’s party. Their conversation died when Iwaizumi came into view.  Kageyama stood up and slid closer to Aone, making room for them in the circle. Iwaizumi sat in the vacated spot with a nod of acknowledgment.

“So,” Kozume sat up and ran his fingers along the scarred surface of his staff, chipped and scratched from battles long past. He searched all his companions’ faces before settling on Iwaizumi. “I noticed while I was healing Oikawa that my magic filled the spaces where his used to be. It’ll come back. Eventually.” The atmosphere tensed, and Kozume tugged his hood down hard. “Oikawa’s power will return,” he continued from underneath it, “but not as it was before.” He ducked his head and tilted his staff, digging the base into the ground. “The corruption is gone. Whatever mana he had before that will be what returns. It will be ‘clean’,” he said with little air quotes.

“A weakened threat is still a threat,” Aone’s deep boom spoke up from across the fire, making everyone jump. He tilted his head towards the direction of the cells.

“He’s right. Even if Oikawa-san doesn’t regain such invincible power, he’s still a strong opponent.” Kageyama picked at the bark of the log he had taken a new seat on, gauging Iwaizumi’s reaction. “To underestimate him would be a fatal mistake.”

“Oikawa was corrupted, and the corruption is _gone_ ,” Iwaizumi repeated, louder than he intended. He shifted his glare to the fire between them all. “When he wakes, we can’t say for sure that his motives will remain the same as before. The prophecy came true. You already won.”

“That’s true...”

“Hinata?”

“What? It is true. If the evil’s defeated, then Oikawa-san will have no drive to do evil, unless he was truly a bad person to start with. Right, Iwaizumi-san?” Iwaizumi nodded.

“He never wanted the throne in the first place.” Iwaizumi shifted on his seat. “It was duty rather than desire, but, he kept trying to handle it alone... Idiot.”

“So he never had bad motives to start with. That’s a good thing, right? So when he wakes up he’ll just be like ‘the heck was I doing?’... or something.”

“That’s one way to look at it.” Kenma flicked at the crystal on his staff. “His mana isn’t under threat, and the lands have turned against him. He will have no power or allies with which to rebel with. His influence is lost.”

“Hey, you say that but, how long will it take for Oikawa-san to recover?”

“I couldn’t say. Days, weeks, maybe longer.”

The group fell into silence as they thought it over, the crackle of the fire filling in for their absent voices. Iwaizumi looked up to face the group again.

“When Oikawa wakes, what’s your plan?”

The group shared a look of unease. Iwaizumi locked gazes with each of them, holding a calm face despite the anxiety building inside. Kageyama coughed. “If we did it by the book, then Oikawa-san would face trial and be sentenced, locked away and confined... probably with some form of magic suppression, if we push to keep him alive.”

“That would be counterproductive to his recovery,” Kenma said, frowning into his staff’s crystal.

Kageyama gave a slow nod. “It’s a possibility.”

“And if you chose less than legal methods?” Iwaizumi pressed.

Kageyama sighed and looked at the trees. “There’s always banishment.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes on that one until Hinata bounced on his perch, making their shared log sway. “I’m the Hero of the Lands, right? I could give a ‘hero’s pardon’ or something – that sounds all important and official!”

Kageyama reached behind Iwaizumi and slapped Hinata’s head. “Because that’s the smartest idea you’ve ever had," he explained. "What will the people say when their hero pardons the greatest evil they know?”

“But they don’t know! Not really.”

“What the hell are you talking about, dumbass?”

Hinata shoved his arm away. “What I’m _saying_ is that, barring our camp, no one knows Oikawa-san’s alive. I mean... sure, okay, rumours could spread, but without proof who knows? No one’s left this camp without going through those in charge. We’ll keep it quiet.”

“What are you suggesting?” Iwaizumi asked, eyes narrowed.

“Oikawa-san’s not waking up anytime soon. He’s too weak to be shoved into a cell with surpressy magic stuff without wasting all of Aone and Kenma’s hard work, so what if we just...” He waved his arms through the air in a gesture that Iwaizumi couldn’t understand. “Y’know, pretend Oikawa-san is dead.” He turned to Iwaizumi and pointed at him. “You could take him anywhere, Iwaizumi-san. Just keep him hidden and out of trouble.”

“You make that sound easy!” Iwaizumi snapped.

“Hinata you can’t be serious. If this gets out—”

“If this gets out, it will only be rumour,” Hinata pressed on, cutting off Kageyama’s complaint. “Oikawa-san’s super smart; he won’t put himself in danger when he’s in danger already. There’s no one to protect him except Iwaizumi-san! It makes sense. I don’t want him dying in a cell... That’s pretty awful.”

Kageyama made a grab for him. “One of these days, Hinata, you’re going to jump too close to the sun and fuck yourself over and drag the rest of us along with you.”

Iwaizumi’s brows shot up. Hinata tensed and glared at his partner. Kageyama squared his shoulders, fists curling at his sides. After a short beat, Hinata backed down and relaxed. “I get it, you’re worried. A lot could go wrong after everything we went through to get people on our side.” Hinata shook a hand through his messed up hair with a sigh. “It’ll be our best kept secret. Iwaizumi-san can take Oikawa-san to one of the abandoned towns. There’s a lot of empty houses and farms in the area. Surely you can use one, right?”

“Hinata, you’re sure about this?”

Hinata stared Kageyama down. “It’s the best option Oikawa-san’s got. Our camp is small, word won’t get out quickly.”

From the corner of his eye, Iwaizumi caught Kozume as he looked up from the crystal in his staff. “We’ll stem the rumours. There are a lot of grudges against us out there. Kuro has vanished, and the succubi are still missing. Rumours come from anywhere.”

“And you’re _sure_ you trust Oikawa-san?”

Hinata’s stood and planted his feet, fists on his hips. “I believe in Iwaizumi-san. Oikawa-san deserves a second chance.”

Kageyama sighed. “Then... I guess it’s settled.”

Hinata clapped Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Iwaizumi-san, Oikawa-san still needs help. We’ll give you any supplies that we can spare.” Hinata turned around to face their other member. Aone sighed and stood up, towering over him. “Aone, can you prepare a pack for Iwaizumi-san? I’m sorry it’s a lot to ask.” Aone nodded.

Iwaizumi watched him walk off into the camp, then turned back to Hinata. Hinata continued to surprise him. “Hinata, thank you. I can’t... There’s not enough I can do for this.”

“You’ve been part of our team for a long time, Iwaizumi-san. If I can help, then I want to. I got to defeat the great and feared Grand King, and we saved everyone!” Hinata rubbed the back of his head and glanced off to the side. Iwaizumi barely caught the frown before it vanished back into Hinata’s usual cheer. “If you say Oikawa-san is a good person, then he deserves a second chance. That’s what I believe in, and if he’s the person you believe in, then I’m sure he’ll try to fix the things he did wrong!”

Iwaizumi swallowed on the lump in his throat and nodded, listening closely as Hinata refocused and relayed their plan of action. With a full day ahead of them, the sun was far, far from setting. Over time, Hinata’s plans grew more and more enthusiastic until Kageyama knocked him back down to the ground – literally. Once Aone returned, they were thankfully reformed with Kozume’s guidance.

If there was one thing Iwaizumi was certain of, it was that he would find a way to repay Hinata. Though Hinata would never call it such, Iwaizumi could not let this debt pass unacknowledged.

~*~

They remained at the camp for an extra day, Oikawa under watchful guard until Hinata came to unlock the cell at dawn with a finger held to his lips. Kageyama had mapped out the route to a town about a day’s travel from the camp to act as a drop off.

The route to the abandoned farmhouse that would be their hideaway was a clear one. Old and scouted hundreds of times, there were no unforeseen issues when they loaded Oikawa into their transport and began their journey.

The town had been evacuated months ago with nothing left to lurk in the shadows. The old house sat just outside the town boundary, away from the road with enough trees to provide some levels of privacy. They set him up in an easy room to guard, small with a single door above the ground floor. Everything after this would be down to Iwaizumi.

The group stayed the night. Iwaizumi stayed up with Kageyama whilst the others slept, plotting a course together over several maps scattered across the battered kitchen table. After Hinata and the rest left in the morning, Iwaizumi would remain behind with Oikawa for a few extra days, then travel west using the left-behind horse to take shelter in the outer lying area. Plenty of abandoned farmhouses from the war dotted the way, and about a mile or so out laid a small town that still thrived. Iwaizumi could find work there.

With the next daybreak, Hinata and his friends parted from Iwaizumi, expressing their farewells.

“If you ever need me, Hinata, just ask.” Iwaizumi clasped Hinata’s hand hard enough to shake. “Things are about to get hectic for you. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Iwaizumi-san. It’s been great travelling with you. I won’t forget it!”

“Neither will I. Take care of Kageyama. He works too hard.”

“Oi, don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” Iwaizumi laughed and Hinata led his partner off, to the horses left with Aone some distance away, cackling and poking his side. Kozume remained behind and Iwaizumi fell silent as Kozume’s stare penetrated through him. The severity of the situation lost to Hinata’s enthusiasm returned, sobering, but Kozume said nothing, merely sighed and walked away with a final warning.

“Take care, Iwaizumi.”

 

 


	2. I Shall Rise

It had been two weeks since Iwaizumi had settled in the farmhouse at the edge of town, little in the way of supplies or company. Oikawa had not so much as stirred during their journey, chest rising and falling the only indication of life. Iwaizumi had turned to town just to find something useful to do with his futile hands.

The local town offered plenty of work and sought aid from anyone able-bodied enough to till their burnt fields or rebuild their broken homes. Every hour put silver in his pocket and healing salves at Oikawa's bedside. The pay wasn't much, sometimes just hot meals and orphaned clothing, but it was enough to get by.

Iwaizumi wiped the evening's sweat from his face, another grey smear joining the dirt across his forehead. He collapsed against a wooden bench and let his head drop back to catch the setting sun as workmen clattered around him, his limbs weighted with lead.

Gravel crunched nearby with approaching footsteps. He paid it no mind until a shadow blocked out the warm light he had found momentary peace in. Iwaizumi cracked an eye.

Above him stood a broad man whose smile hadn’t faded with the long day. “If you were hoping to grab dinner, it wouldn’t be wise to sleep out here.” Sawamura held out his hand to Iwaizumi. He took it, allowing himself to be hauled up. “I’ll be surprised if there’s anything left.”

“I wasn't sleeping.” Iwaizumi let go of Sawamura's hand and stretched his arms. His shoulders gave a satisfying pop. “But I can’t say I wasn’t dreaming… Venison sounds good.”

“Hm... Somehow I don't think watered-down stew at the Woodbine will fill that void.” Sawamura met Iwaizumi's gaze with a grin that belied his grim tone. Iwaizumi stifled a laugh and walked ahead of Sawamura onto the road. Sawamura was comfortable to talk around, his presence calming and steady - a welcome reprieve from the anxieties plaguing him.

The Woodbine Inn was the only place thriving lately. Many patrons were refugees that had fled the capital, escaping the king's reach and seeking shelter from the war. Whilst some had taken up short stays in the local inns, others had continued past beyond the border. They never stayed for long, or so Iwaizumi had been told. If he could help it, Iwaizumi planned to be in that number.

Despite the masses coming and going, the Woodbine was alive with noise. At his first invitation, Iwaizumi had not been prepared for the clamour of people that filled the dining area from one corner to the next. The word around claimed it as the best place to eat, Iwaizumi had stayed last time just long enough to eat and show courtesy before running back to Oikawa before dark. Judging by the press of Sawamura’s hands between his shoulder blades as he shoved him across the inn yard, he wouldn't escape so easily this evening.

The noise hit them as Sawamura pushed open the door, a loud cacophony of raised voices and booming calls. Iwaizumi surveyed the room as he followed Sawamura inside, gaze jumping from corner to corner. With the guards in town that came and went, it never hurt to be too cautious.

“Daichi!”

Iwaizumi halted, Sawamura’s back an inch from his chest. Sawamura stopped to wave at the bar, and glanced over his shoulder to Iwaizumi with a wide grin, calling over the crowd. “Go on ahead. Everyone's seated on the same table as yesterday.”

“At the back?”

“That's the one!”

Iwaizumi made his way through the crowd, dodging elbows and stray legs, until he reached the far table the makeshift repair team had claimed for themselves. A large pot sat at the far end and when Iwaizumi dropped onto the bench, the pot was shoved down towards him, scratching along the hardwood surface. A man to his right passed him a beaten bowl that had seen better days along with a worn wooden spoon.

“Don't worry, there's plenty left. Not all of us have a black hole for a stomach.” He shot a grin across the table to another man—a volunteer—then turned back to Iwaizumi. “Ishida-san, wasn’t it?”

_Ah_. That was another thing adding to the weight across Iwaizumi shoulders, a daily reminder of who he could no longer be. In recognition of his bravery, and his loyalty to the hero, ‘Iwaizumi Hajime’ had become a name known across the lands. Is that how bravery was defined; abandoning family to their madness? So though his face—dirty, plain, and worn from stress—may not have been the most recognisable, Iwaizumi's name was now a problem. He'd adopted another, in no rush to garner attention that would lead to trouble.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat and picked up the offered bowl. “Thank you...?”

“Oh! It’s Narita. Call me Narita. Don’t worry about the formalities.”

“Thank you, Narita.”

Iwaizumi leant over the pot to fill his bowl. An annoying itch picked away at him – why was he forgetting their names so quickly? Experience had taught him the benefits of placing a name and a face even when he didn’t really care. If they ever crossed paths again, that information would be an advantage.

He settled down on the wooden bench and began to eat, allowing the food and the noise to fill his thoughts. The racket of the group picked up when Sawamura joined them, the man from the bar at his side – Kinoshita, maybe. Silence fell across their table, nothing short of glorious as the focus shifted from conversation to filling empty stomachs. The absence of chatter became a bubble of solace in the overcrowded inn, but bubbles burst.

Narita leant forward, tapping against the bottom of his bowl with his spoon. “So what brought you here, anyway, Ishida-san? Considering the damage done here, I’m surprised you didn’t pass on through.”

“Hm?” Iwaizumi lifted his bowl, drinking broth that was more water than substance. He shrugged. “Money is money, work is work.”

“But there's work everywhere, it ain’t like this place is a special hell.”

He put the bowl down, fingers tight around the spoon as he picked at his food and recited lines practiced in the silence of the old farmhouse. “Here’s where I ran out of supplies, is all. I have family waiting for me in Johzenji, so better to stock up whilst I can.”

Kinoshita reached over the table for the jug across from Narita. He filled up their mugs as he asked, “Johzenji, huh? That _is_ pretty far. And you came all this way from where? The capital?”

“No.” Iwaizumi shook his head as he took his cup, casting a brief glance around the table. “I came from a village in Kamakura, a few weeks travel away. We fled when the war reached our doors, and well, you can guess the rest.”

“Sorry to hear it. I take it that's where you got that sword then? Been wonderin’ why someone with Aoba Johsai’s royal crest got dragged out here.” Kinoshita nodded towards the hilt of the sword visible over Iwaizumi's shoulder. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, his pulse jumping. The emblem had slipped his mind; it wasn't something he had ever stopped to think about, it just _was_.

“Oh, that. I…” He reached his hand around, tracing the weld of the metal, as he searched for an explanation. Despite having long since hidden the remains of his armour under some old sheets at the farmhouse, the idea of walking unarmed seemed foolish. “...I picked up it from a fallen soldier. Better defence than my rusty short sword. It’s, uh, pretty heavy though.”

“I'll say,” Narita said, leaning over to poke the pommel. “Shields and one-handed swords are much better, defence _and_ offence, freedom of movement.”

Kinoshita rolled his eyes. “Of course you'd say that.”

“Hey, don't knock it. You can't just swing your sword around and chop up everyone in your way. There's value in good defensive equipment.”

Sawamura sighed and chugged from his mug, pulling his bowl closer to him as though the food would block out the bickering. Iwaizumi looked across to him, questions mounting as Kinoshita and Narita swapped in-depth battle merits. This chatter was too detailed for uninformed civilian bragging.

“You know a lot about weaponry… Are you mercenaries?” He hadn't seen them in a uniform, nor witnessed them fight. If they were townsfolk who volunteered for the army, it may have made sense, but to Iwaizumi's ears they didn’t sound local. They never had to begin with. He explained as much. “You don't sound like you're from Seijou. I take it you didn't fight with the army?”

Sawamura looked up from his bowl, still chewing, and swallowed to answer, covering his mouth with his hand as he spoke. “We're soldiers, stationed here from Karasuno.”

The Woodbine stew soured on Iwaizumi's tongue. “I would have thought they'd station you somewhere closer to the capital. Where the King was...”

Narita turned to face them, dropping his debate with Kinoshita. “Princess Yui pulled some strings to have us stationed here while we waited for another unit to arrive. Since this is becoming a popular route with all the other ones burnt out, we'll probably be passing through a lot more.”

_Shit_. Iwaizumi's appetite fled. “Karasuno's _Princess_ gave you orders?” Iwaizumi clutched his cup and brought it to his lips to drown his climbing anxiety.

“Well, yeah! You're looking at –”

“– _part of_ –”

“– Karasuno's Royal Guard,” Kinoshita declared and smacked an irritated Sawamura on the back with hard thud and a proud grin. “Though right now I'd call us repairmen... maybe carpenters? What do you—”

Iwaizumi choked, alcohol scorching his lungs like fire as he sucked in a breath, thumping the mug on the table. “Are you okay?” Narita's hand pounded on his back.

Iwaizumi coughed into his hand, wincing from the contact and the burn. He waved him away and cleared his throat, willing himself to regain composure. Iwaizumi settled back and breathed deep. “I just wasn't expecting to learn I was sharing a meal with foreign soldiers, let alone their Royal Guard.”

“What, no one told you? Don't let it get you.” Sawamura refilled his mug and shot him a friendly grin across the table. “Kinoshita’s aunt owns this inn, so there’s a fair few privileges. Drink up.” Iwaizumi smiled back as if the news hadn't just swallowed him whole.

~*~

The door swung wide on its hinges to clatter against the wall. Greeted with darkness, Iwaizumi stepped into the empty hall, boots heavy. He paced, cursing into the silence, and dragged his hands through his hair. He should have left the inn hours ago, but if he had run too soon people would have had questions he wouldn’t answer.

Shame prickled across his skin, thoughts reeling. His drink had been left untouched the rest of the evening, mug just swirling with his idle fingers as he tried not to explode in public. The chill in the air had done nothing to ease Iwaizumi's nerves on the journey home. They weren’t safe here. They had to _leave_.

Iwaizumi marched into the kitchen and stopped at the edge of the table. A hard push sent the wood squeaking across the floorboards, and Iwaizumi knelt to take out the broken planks. In the darkness sat all of Iwaizumi's worldly belongings.

The pack sat limp, half empty, their food minimal and medicine miniscule. Oikawa’s small stock of mana potions glowed at him, faint blue in the moonlight breaching board-covered, windows. Useless.

With a groan, Iwaizumi dropped back to sit on the floor, placing a hand over his mouth as he thought. He had to keep working. They couldn't skip town with just this, and moving too soon after a discovery that large would only cast more suspicion.

Iwaizumi thought back, unable to place the faces of the Karasuno guardsmen in his memory from before the Hero’s journey, and they had shown no indication of having recognised him, either. It had been some time since Aoba Johsai had been in contact with its neighbouring countries. A lot could change in a handful of years.

That settled it. As long as he remained unrecognised, then there was still hope. But what of the new units Kinoshita had mentioned? Iwaizumi replaced the pack and stood, escaping to the hallway.

Narrow stairs lead up to the bedrooms. Oikawa was still there, laid in a small bed under the window ledge of the corner room. Iwaizumi dragged over the old chair from the table by the wall to Oikawa's bedside.

“You know… all of this is your fault, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi leant on his knees, tension tight across his forehead. He sat in silence for a few moments, breathing slow and deep, before shaking his head. “No... No. It's just bad luck.”

For a moment, Iwaizumi stopped to watch the sky through the swaying trees. The second floor windows were barricaded too, boarded up halfway, as though the owners hadn't had the time to finish the job. What light from the moon that hadn't reached the kitchen shone bright and patchy across the bedroom.

“This town wasn't supposed to be this active. The location here is too awkward to access...” He looked down, rubbed at his temples and closed his eyes. “I guess our odds were stacked against us; they have been from the start. Did you know Karasuno's Royal Guard is here? I've been talking to them. Thought they may have been refugees. Real decent guys... I didn't even think— Shit. I just didn't _think_.”

Iwaizumi lifted his head and brought a hand to his jaw, allowing himself a moment to watch the rise and fall of Oikawa's chest. The moonlight gave no signs to Oikawa's health, highlighting his pale skin, blue over grey.

“We should be fine for now. I have to keep working. Supplies are low and we need the money. It's... It's the smart thing to do.” He reached over and ran his hand down Oikawa's arm, searching out the spot along the inside of Oikawa's wrist where his pulse beat beneath the skin. “But just in case... Hurry up, would you? If worst comes to worst, I don't fancy our odds of escaping a good army with just a horse and your dead weight.”

~*~

To Oikawa, the world was nothing but darkness, distant echoes filtered through thick blankets, muffled and indecipherable – then the world tilted, the steep angle tossing him into ocean waves that swept away his balance, no discernible difference between up or down, yet the falling never ceased. Oikawa slipped, and slipped, and slipped, until nothing remained.

~*~

Days passed and new travellers entered the town, and while most of them had come and gone, a few remained behind. Iwaizumi couldn't deny that having the extra hands helped. What had taken several hours before was now done in one. Iwaizumi wondered if he would be able to see the town again, healed and restored, before he had to leave.

There was little time to dwell on the matter when a crash from behind broke through his thoughts. Iwaizumi turned to watch the nails scatter across the floor. Their container rolled away down the road, out of reach from the frozen hand belonging to one of their newest workers. Koganegawa Kanji had arrived two days ago, another headache to Iwaizumi’s growing collection. “Kogane-kun! How long are you planning to sit in the dirt for?”

“Geh? I'm up! _I'm up!_ ” Kogane was on his feet like a bolt, swiping the dust from his clothes.

“Be more careful walking around with tools.” Iwaizumi scanned over the mess. It looked as though Kogane had tripped over the boards nearby, their stacks in disarray along the work path. “You could get seriously injured next time.”

“I know, I'll be careful!”

“Don't just say it!” Iwaizumi snapped. “Now clean this up.”

Kogane's hand flew to his head in an almost salute before darting off down the road to search for the container. The nails remained scattered across the ground at Iwaizumi's feet, a hazard. With a groan, Iwaizumi scuffed at the floor, sliding away anything he could tread on.

He turned back to the wall behind him and re-angled the plank, hammering it into place before further interruptions could follow. With any luck, this house would be sealed up before the day was out, and a decent amount of coins would be in Iwaizumi's pocket to lose to the apothecary.

“What happened here?”

The hammer slipped the nail, smacking into the hardwood board as Iwaizumi startled. He turned to see Sawamura appraising the mess across the floor. He looked as unimpressed as Iwaizumi felt, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin at the guard’s arrival.

“Kogane-kun happened,” he answered.

“Where is he?”

“Down the road, collecting the tin he launched.”

“That kid. Honestly.” Sawamura sighed and huffed out a laugh, picking his way over. “The right side has been finished. There's not much of a window, but it'll do enough to keep out the elements.”

Iwaizumi hummed, turning away from Sawamura. “Sounds like progress.”

“It's something. Let me help you here?”

Iwaizumi flipped the hammer in the air, a warning bell chiming in his mind at the idea of too much time spent around Sawamura. Reluctantly, he passed the handle over, offering him what he hoped was cheeky grin. “On the condition that _you_ work with Kogane-kun tomorrow.”

“That's a steep price for a couple of boards, Ishida.”

Iwaizumi turned back to the half-built wall. “The kid's heart is in a good place, but his feet...”

To his left, Sawamura picked up another board from the pile, handing one end over to Iwaizumi to position. “He'll learn. He's got a good energy about him. It's a nice change to see someone so enthusiastic jumping in to lend a hand.”

Iwaizumi gave a soft hum and held the board steady. Kogane would pick things up eventually. Iwaizumi would just have to keep an eye out for his accidents until then.

Kogane returned shortly after, whining as he collected the last of the nails and deposited them into their container. Iwaizumi was taking a break, the rough wood of the board pile digging into his legs as he downed lukewarm water from his flask.

He watched as Kogane approached, wiping away the sweat that clung to his clothes in the thick humidity. “There! Everything's back where it should be.” He set the tin down next to Iwaizumi, looking proud of himself.

“Good work. Don't drop them next time.”

“I won't! I can do better! Just watch, I'll have a whole wall done tomorrow. No problem!”

Iwaizumi stood as Sawamura approached, coming up behind Kogane with a deep laugh to clap his hand across his back, jolting Kogane forward with a grunt.

“I'm counting on you.”

“Ah - sure!”

Iwaizumi recapped his flask, stretching and moving aside. “Well, we've got a lot done here this morning. Should be done by sunset.”

“And it's about time we eat. We can finish this one after lunch.”

Kogane looked between them and the house with a frown. “But there's just a tiny bit left! If we finish this one now, won't lunch taste better?”

Iwaizumi tilted his head and considering the building for a moment. Sawamura sighed.

“We _could_ , _but,_ we've been working since sunrise. It'll do us better if we take a real break.”

“He's got a point.” Iwaizumi thought back to twisted ankles and sprained wrists at the old castle, to an Oikawa who had broken and bled. “Overworking yourself without rest will just end with shoddy work or more accidents. A break sounds good.”

“Kinoshita's nabbed a spot on the hill out of the sun. A damn paradise.” Sawamura grinned, a little manic, and lead them out of the property and onto the road. “Grab your pack and we'll head there. Wouldn't want to sit on a stray nail here.”

“Hey!” A snicker escaped Sawamura, and Iwaizumi left Kogane to defend his case.

When Sawamura caught up to show them the way, his claims of paradise hadn't been an exaggeration. Iwaizumi took in the soft green grass up the slope with wonder. This small area had remained untouched by the war, thriving and healthy. How Kinoshita had found it was beyond him.

Kinoshita waved them over as they approached, smiling around a spoon. The grass swayed under the weak breeze, flowers growing amongst the blades. Iwaizumi almost didn't want to sit down; it would be a shame to crush them under his weight, to have them wilt like the area around them. Remorse clouded the scene.  _His_ soldiers had scarred the surrounding land. Iwaizumi could not even remember if it had been his own order or Oikawa's, unstable and afraid.

Iwaizumi pulled out his lunch, but he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“This place is amazing!” Kogane’s voice cut through, pulling food from his pack with fervour. Kinoshita grinned as he plopped down next to him.

“Yeah, pretty lucky right? Narita had me out looking for salvageable parts from this end of the town when I found it.” Kinoshita leant back on his arms and turned his face into the wind. “You never know what'll make it out of a war unscathed.”

“Damn right, you should've seen Kitagawa. Wrecked! But the schoolhouse? Untouched! Wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it.”

Iwaizumi bit out a chunk from of his bread, dry on his tongue, a rock in his stomach. “You’ve travelled through Kita?” he asked.

Kogane sat back, bobbing his head several times. He washed down his food with his drink and leant in. “Yeah, I've been all over. Merchant's son, y'know? I've hit almost every single town in this country.”

“You must have seen a lot.”

“More than a lot!” Kogane whistled and pointed a stick of dried meat at Iwaizumi, directing it along an invisible map, bottom right to top left. “Me and m’dad, we've been in Aoba Johsai for ‘bout three years. Trade was great! We had a killing, right? ‘Course it all went to shit when the King lost his mind.”

“Kogane-kun.” Sawamura shook his head. Iwaizumi hid his scowl behind his flask.

“What? It's true. But anyway, our caravan got raided. Dad, well, I hope he's resting in peace somewhere ‘cause it sure beats here,” Kogane continued, still gesturing with his food. “So I hit the road with what we got left. Aoba Johsai's not safe and – over or not – with the war, there's no business here. Sold all my shit just to get here. And lemme tell you, this place got lucky.”

Iwaizumi winced. The castle at the capital laid beyond the outer towns. Iwaizumi had witnessed the damage on his way out and on his way back in. The sight had been hard to swallow. Past the borders, smoke had risen fresh from what remained of burnt out husks. Walls had crumbled, and livestock had lain slaughtered. The destruction only grew worse on their approach to the capital, churning Iwaizumi’s stomach like poison.

The surrounding company grew quiet, eyes lowered with weight Kogane’s information. Iwaizumi wondered how much they had seen for themselves. Sawamura broke the silence.

“Where are you heading now, Kogane-kun? What's waiting for you?”

Kogane bit off a chunk from the dried meat and chewed around his answer. “Tha'sh eashy. I'm heading back’o Da’ekou.”

Iwaizumi eyes snapped up. “ _Datekou_? What's waiting for you there?”

Kogane swallowed his food and sat back. “Family! And the merchants’ guild. If they can get me back in business again, I'll have no worries!”

Was this good fortune? The walls of Datekou filled his mind, the fabric-spun lies of Johzenji’s gold pastures blocked out. If Kogane was going to Datekou— No, it was a too early to be making plans. He needed information first.

“I hope it goes well for you,” he said. “You’ll let us know when you’re leaving?”

Kogane grinned at him with confidence. “Sure will!”

“So when _are_ you leaving, Kogane-kun?” Kinoshita pulled his pack over as he spoke, clearing the area around him.

Kogane shrugged. “When I've got the money. What, like, a week? Two weeks?”

“When you decide, we'll give you a proper send off!”

Sawamura snorted as Kogane preened from the attention. “You just want an excuse to drink.”

“What can I say, he's a good kid. I like him. Let's let him leave knowing how much we care.”

“That sounds great!”

“What do you think, Ishida? Sound like a plan?”

Iwaizumi glanced up from his meal and shot the group a smile. “Absolutely.”

~*~

The walk home was a quiet one, but a thousand words itched to trip off Iwaizumi's tongue. His thoughts span as if caught on a spindle. The kid was going to _Datekou_ , and the opportunity it presented was too good to be true.

Formally known as Datekougyou, the country was famed for the Iron Wall that protected its borders. Over thousands of years, few countries had been able to break through that solid defence, and Aoba Johsai had yet to add their name to that list. The country held one of the largest cities in the region, and its exports were the backbone of modern industry. In a population as large as theirs, Iwaizumi saw salvation. Amongst a thousand faces passing by, who would stop to remember theirs? Unseen. Unheard. There was only one problem: the Iron Wall.

Iwaizumi paused at his door. The gates would be flooded with guards, asylum seekers held at the entrances for security. Still, the world believed that Aoba Johsai's king was dead. Though they would not be searching out their faces amongst the crowds, they wouldn’t go unnoticed when the guards made rounds.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him, the house as quiet as ever. As he walked down the hall, Iwaizumi imagined arriving at the gates of Datekou with Oikawa Tooru at his side. He shook his head. _Impossible_. But there was another way in. He just needed the right chance, the right contacts on the inside. He needed Kogane.

Iwaizumi took the steps two at a time, crossing the landing into Oikawa's room. He was as still as Iwaizumi had left him that morning, just as pale and just as gaunt. Iwaizumi dropped down into the chair beside the desk and pulled out yellowing scraps of parchment from the drawer.

A thousand faces had passed through the town on their way out of Aoba Johsai, a thousand faces, and Iwaizumi had been gifted the small miracle of befriending a Datekou native. He wouldn't waste this opportunity.

~*~

A heavy stone sat across Oikawa's chest, immovable, solid, and crushing. He couldn't breathe, out of air and out of strength. A dull ache vied for his attention, fighting against the static in his ears that screamed and fizzled and shrieked. The sound ebbed, distorted and inconsistent. His world spun, dizzy and unstoppable, faster and faster, until the force dragged him into an abyss.

~*~

Iwaizumi awoke to darkness, back stiff from his upright sleeping position. The fire had long since died in the hearth, leaving a chill across his skin. The blankets of Oikawa's bed shifted in Iwaizumi’s bleary half-awake eyes. When a strained whine hit his ears, though, Iwaizumi's attention snapped into focus. He bolted from the chair to the bed, covering the distance in two long strides.

Oikawa shifted under the sheets. His breaths came short and quick. “Oikawa?” Iwaizumi squinted through the darkness, but it was no use. The moonlight was weak tonight, leaving little light to examine Oikawa's condition.

He stepped away from the bed, moving towards the side table where the candles sat. Iwaizumi carried one back to the bed and set it on the window ledge. Oikawa's eyes were shut tight. In the soft glow, Iwaizumi could see the flush of his cheeks, stark against his pale skin. How long had he been like this?

Iwaizumi placed a hand against Oikawa's forehead, gauging his temperature. Through the heat, a pulse shot through his skin, seeping into his palm. Iwaizumi snatched his hand back. The thick waves climbed up his fingers and reached for his wrist, a high tide of energy.

A shudder rippled through him, and Iwaizumi dropped his hand to wipe his palm against the rough material of his trousers. Oikawa burnt hot, too hot. Familiarity sprang in the forgotten corners of Iwaizumi’s mind. There was no potion that would soothe _this_ fever.

“Fight through it, Oikawa…”

Iwaizumi retrieved the basin from under the table and filled it from a stale pitcher, water splashing over the edges from unsteady, work-worn hands. How long had it been since Oikawa had fallen this sick under magic so cloying and suffocating?

He wrung out the thin fabric of a cloth and pressed it against Oikawa's forehead, careful to avoid making contact with his skin again. _We were twelve…_

\- - -

Tooru swept through the room, small feet stomping across the stonework. Outside the bedroom, the sounds of a celebration were dying in the distance. A coming of age feast in the young prince’s honour. Their rising star. The true son of their great king.

Tooru rolled his eyes.

“They're making it such a big deal, Hajime! It's not weird, it happens to everyone my age!” _Every demon your age_. But Hajime didn’t say that.

Hajime laughed as Tooru huffed and raved with palpable aggravation around his room. Tooru had never been fond of people likening him to some sort of miracle. A heavy cloak blew into Hajime’s face and smothered his laughter under fine fabric and young anger.

“ _’—and only twelve, such a talented young prince’_!” Tooru scoffed, voice high and mocking. Hajime could hear the frown on his lips. “I studied and I practiced, and… and I _worked_.”

Two weeks later, Tooru swayed and dropped at Hajime’s feet in the courtyard. He called for help and held Tooru’s head on his knees, fearful of moving him and making things worse.

He swept back his hair and tapped at his cheeks. “Tooru? _Tooru!_ ”

Hajime’s hands tingled. A pulsing sensation, treacle thick, ebbed its way up and through his legs and arms and elbows. He tried to wipe it on the cobbles, the press of magic smothering his skin, but Tooru jostled under the movement. Hajime fell still.

Tooru was taken from him in a flurry of adult concern, carried away to the castle’s physician. Legs too weak to follow, Hajime was left alone in the courtyard.

“I couldn’t do anything…”

Gazes turned in sympathy and Hajime picked himself up from the floor.

The physician called it an 'excess of mana' and some larger words that Hajime didn’t understand. Tooru’s young body shut down, unable to handle the overflow of magic coursing through him, too small a container for power so great.

Tooru stayed bedridden for a month as his body adjusted. His fever burnt through the worst, and Hajime’s fury burnt in tandem. Tooru hadn't uttered a single word about his discomfort before it had been too late.

\- - -

Like the days long past, there would be no medication that would help Oikawa now. Just as before, he would have to work through this himself.

“So bleeding out on the castle floor wasn’t enough for you? You had to go and get sick too?” Iwaizumi used the damp cloth to sweep aside Oikawa's hair and glared at the tight pull of Oikawa's brow. “I won’t let you do this again. Asshole.”

Oikawa offered no reply. Iwaizumi ran his free hand through the short spikes of his hair, concerned at how easy it had become to talk to what felt like the void. He rinsed out the cloth, left it to cool against Oikawa's skin, and brought the chair over to the bed.

“What's causing this, Oikawa? It's not even your own power this time...” Iwaizumi, rested his head on his crossed arms, sheets scratchy under them. Kenma had mentioned that the help he provided was only temporary. Perhaps this was what he meant? Was Kenma's magic burning its way out of Oikawa's system? If that was the case, Iwaizumi hoped this was a promising sign. If Kenma's aid had run its course, then Iwaizumi could only believe that Oikawa was recovering enough to support himself. He had to take faith in that, but he couldn't relax yet.

~*~

Iwaizumi yawned and rubbed at his head, wondering whether staying in would have been the better decision to have made. One mistake had followed another, and more than once Iwaizumi had found himself almost nailing his hand to a board.

He collected his pack from the fence and skirted the work area to find a quiet place to sit. The sun was bright this afternoon, and the nearby surviving trees offered some shade. Iwaizumi found his place under one that still had its leaves after the months-ago fire. He uncapped the lid from his flask, closed his eyes, and brought it to his lips. His eyes felt too heavy to re-open, pulled down by the lead that hung from his shoulders and grounded his legs. He recapped the flask and set it by his side, breathing in deep and feeling the bark of the tree scratch beneath his shirt.

His mind drifted, wandering to Oikawa without his permission. When he had woken that morning Oikawa had seemed stable, fever bright but sleeping sound. Whether he wanted to or not, there was nothing that Iwaizumi could do. Oikawa would be alright. He had to take faith in the first good sign he had seen in weeks. Iwaizumi's head tilted against the tree. Thoughts of faith slipped away, lost to a fog that pulled him under, slow and steady…

A hard tap against his foot jolted Iwaizumi from his doze. He didn't know how long he had slept, but the tapping against his sole was persistent. Iwaizumi's eyes snapped open, reaching for a sword that no longer sat by his side, stored away beneath his farmhouse floorboards.

“Easy, there!”

_Sawamura_. Iwaizumi coaxed his muscles to relax. The man above him cut an imposing figure, lit behind by the afternoon sunlight. “I don't recall you being paid to sleep,” he said. He caught the question on Sawamura’s face.

Iwaizumi stood up, electricity thrumming through his legs. “It won't happen again.”

Sawamura shifted, the sternness of his voice softening as he looked Iwaizumi over. “Rough night?”

His thoughts jumped to Oikawa and Iwaizumi leant down to pick up his pack. “You could say that.”

Sawamura nodded, his hand coming to rest on his chin. “I think I can let it slide. Just this once.”

Iwaizumi eyed him. “You're a good man, Sawamura.”

Sawamura grinned. “That’s what they tell me.” He clapped his hand against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, jolting sparks across his nerves. “Have you eaten yet?” Iwaizumi shook his head. “It’s lunch break. Come on and eat, and then you can get a head start on the barn around the back. Hopefully we can get it fit for storage.”

“Right.”

Iwaizumi found the others where they had planted themselves the day before. Lunch passed without incident and in easy peace. In the time it took to finish his food, pack up, and get himself over to what used to be the barn, clouds had formed overhead, the heat of the afternoon evening out with the cool breeze.

Iwaizumi got a flash of Oikawa burning up in a too small room without the relief of the weather. The sooner they finished here, the sooner he could head home.

When the others arrived, he had already made headway transporting the necessary supplies into the area. Iwaizumi set down a small cart and sat on the edge, waiting for Sawamura to approach.

Sawamura stopped a couple of steps away, solid hands against his hips with an expectant stare. “So, what do you think?”

Iwaizumi glanced towards the barn. “I think it needs to be rebuilt from the ground up.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Ishida?” Sawamura turned with a chuckle to wave at the others, motioning for them to circle the remains of the building. “Get a good look, let’s see what we can salvage!”

Iwaizumi watched the group. “The framework may be there, but the damage… It wouldn’t support any extra weight. It looks like a leaf could blow it over.”

“He’s right!” Kinoshita knelt nearby, panting from the jog over.

Narita followed a few steps behind with a twinge to his face. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow as Sawamura sighed and massaged his forehead. “What about the town carpenter? What does she think?”

Kinoshita straightened and looked over his shoulder at the volunteers still assessing the barn. “Oh… I'll go get her!”

“Please.” Sawamura turned to face Narita with a sigh. “As much as I value all these good folks' efforts... There's a difference between patching a few holes and building from scratch. Not something they train you for in the garrison...”

As they talked, Iwaizumi’s thoughts turned towards his own soldiers, towards his former knights. He painted the picture; the squabbles – _the accidents_ – as they built a house from the barest foundations. The thought brought a quirk to his lips.

The image faded, and he wondered if those men, his friends, would be allowed to contribute towards the repairs at the capital. As Oikawa had fallen apart, the barracks had emptied, absent of soldiers, both the fallen and the deserted. Perhaps they could be pardoned rather than punished? Karasuno seemed to be a fair country, if the care placed in this town was a worthy stick to measure them by. Without the power to influence those decisions, Iwaizumi was left with only wishes.

Iwaizumi cast the thoughts from his mind as Kinoshita returned. The lady who arrived with him had short brown hair and bright eyes that darted around the barn with quick calculation, a purse to her mouth.

“The structure won't hold at all,” she snapped. “It's not worth the risk.”

“What do you want to do then, Hana?”

“Get rid of the whole thing, honestly. We’ve got plenty of other things to go up in this spot.”

An energised shout came from Sawamura's volunteers and workers alike – everyone loved destruction. Overhead, the clouds continued to circle, the sky darkening as one by one, brick, wood, and ash were removed from the building site.

Iwaizumi should have expected the casual chatter to turn to an interrogation with him as the victim. He fielded questions about his family, his job history, if that sword had ever seen action, trying to be curt but polite as they tore down the barn. Kinoshita stood back from a pile of rubble he had been working on and wiped his forehead.  “Hey, you got any idea when you're leaving for Johzenji?”

Iwaizumi tugged at a wooden beam embedded in the ground with a grunt. “No. Not yet. Before the end of the month, I hope.”

Kinoshita whistled. “That long, huh... What's keeping you here?”

“Money, supplies, planning.” Iwaizumi rolled back his shoulders and gave the support beam another yank. “I'd like to avoid trouble. I don't want to stop too much.”

“You know, Datekou is on the same route?” Sawamura called from where he heaved a shovel under a mound of burnt wood and ash. “You could always head north with Kogane-kun and stop in Datekou. It's a big country, and there’s no reason to make the whole trip alone.”

Kogane’s yellow head popped up from behind a broken wall. “I wouldn't mind! You look like you can swing a sword, Ishida-san, and that’s all I need!”

Iwaizumi sighed and glanced up to Kogane. “I'm grateful for the offer, but I still have things to do here.”

“Like what?”

He cast a look and a gesture around the barren area. “Seijou is _my_ country, Kogane-kun. It only seems right.”

“Very noble,” Kinoshita commented. Sawamura threw the shovel’s load into the waste pile nearby and leant on the handle to eye Iwaizumi over. Iwaizumi prickled under the scrutiny.

“It's a long hard journey, Ishida. It would be wiser to stop in the passing towns on route.” He pulled the shovel from the ground and walked back over to the ash pile. “It'd be safer with company.”

“You mean with a _merchant_ , for less than a third of the journey?”

“Hey!”

“No offence, Kogane-kun.” Kogane blew a raspberry at him, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I meant with a group,” Sawamura added. “The routes towards Datekou are busy. Why not start the journey easy and travel with the rest of the refugees instead of diving straight into the hard part?”

Iwaizumi gave up and leant on the beam, resting his hands on the splintered end as he considered Sawamura. “I'd prefer it. Caravan groups are large, slow targets on the emptier roads. Kogane-kun might be fine travelling with the refugee groups passing through, but I've lost people I care about like that. You'll forgive me for wanting to keep to myself.”

“And what about you? Will you be safe? Can you really defend yourself, alone, with a single sword and no one else?”

“I understand the road ahead is unpredictable. That’s why I'm taking my time here.” Iwaizumi bristled – forced himself to calm down. “Besides, Sawamura, where's the rush? You wanna kick me out?”

Sawamura rolled his eyes. “Oh, by all means, stay as long as you like. We'll just work you to the bone until then.”

Iwaizumi uncurled his fingers from the sharp wood and released a controlled breath. There was no need for this tension. They were worried. _But not for you_. He forced a grin. “You’ll be funding my travels, Sawamura.”

Sawamura levelled him a disappointed stare and set his jaw. Before he could take the topic further, a wash of grey over their heads made them pause and look up. The gathering rain clouds burst, with the promise of a long shower. The mud and ash around them darkened as the rain picked up.

“Well, guess that’s it for today!” Sawamura called over the group. “Collect and cover what you can. We'll regroup tomorrow when the weather lets up!”

~*~

The darkness surrounding— _suffocating_ —Oikawa dissipated, shapes forming from the smog. They climbed the walls, more threatening, more menacing, than any demon Oikawa had ever encountered. Echoes of sounds came and went, chanting his name, hushed, hurried, calm, until the words merged together, garbled shouts and cries that were a distant shade of his own, deafening. They screamed and they screamed until—

~*~

Iwaizumi arrived at his door a soaked mess. Puddles pooled in his tracks as he stepped into the hallway and stripped in the entryway, wringing out his clothes over the damp threshold. The warm weather did nothing to stop the chill spreading across his body. He surrendered his shoes to the hallway and made his way upstairs to pull the blanket from his bed. It wasn't the warmest fabric, but it did the trick, easing the goosebumps and calming his shivers. He shuffled over to the hearth and lit the fire, stoking the flames to life. They licked at the wood with a crackle as Iwaizumi coaxed them stronger, his fingers and toes warming. He rested his chin atop his knees and scooted closer.

The icy grip around his body thawed, his skin drying and life returning to his limbs. Iwaizumi rose to his feet when he could feel them again, stretching as he went over to Oikawa's bed to check on him at last. His face was still flushed, scarlet on ashen skin, but his breathing was even.  But the bed covers were tousled. Oikawa had moved around during Iwaizumi's absence. An odd mix of relief and worry circled his thoughts. He leant over and took the slipped-away cloth from Oikawa's pillow and dropped it back into the bowl. He needed to change the water in the morning.

Iwaizumi pulled back the covers one by one and set to work checking Oikawa's injuries to make sure he hadn’t popped any stitches with his restlessness. Iwaizumi found little to worry about under the bandages beyond a little give on the stitches on his ribs. He would have to keep an eye on those in future.

He took the time to re-wrap the injuries with his small supply of fresh bandages. Some time had passed since Iwaizumi had been able to refresh them all at once. Oikawa’s wrist sat limp between Iwaizumi’s fingers, the curves of his ribs cutting sharp angles against the bandages, but no skeletal reminder was as sharp as his face, hollow and sunken, stark in the memories of the round shine he used to be.

But the shock at the jagged difference had worn off. Iwaizumi tucked Oikawa back under the covers, warm and protected from the chill of the rain dripping through the window. If Oikawa's fever subsided in time, then maybe, just maybe, he would be strong enough to wake up.

He sank to the floor between the bed and the fire. It was comfortable, safe, besides his old best friend, a balm on his exhaustion— Iwaizumi’s head dropped back against the wall with a hard _thunk_. He slid his eyes towards the mess of hair on the pillow a foot away. What were they anymore? What would they be when Oikawa woke up? Iwaizumi closed his eyes, a gasp of longing closing in around him. He missed his best friend. He missed Tooru.

~ * ~

The rain clapped a lid down hard on their repair progress. The morning had a wet and foggy start, and the afternoon had fared no better as thunder rippled overhead.

They sat in the Woodbine around their table, a pot of stew between them and steaming in their bowls. Silence passed from one sigh to another as they ate with little energy, their plans for how to work in the rain dripping away. Iwaizumi’s head wasn’t at the barn, though, but in a corner room of an old farmhouse. If the weather continued like this, he would have to watch his money even more. He sighed and placed the spoon into his mouth, swirling the thought around with his food.

From the end of the table came a groan and a _thud_. Kogane had stretched out across the surface of the table top, arms splayed out before him. His whining turned a few heads, but no one broke the silence, continuing to eat and watching Kogane try to prompt a response.

When another solid minute of whining followed, Narita gave in. “You'll start summoning demons with noises like that.”

Kogane sat up with a start, wide-eyed. “No, I won’t! I swear it!” Narita held up his hands with a laugh.  “It's just...ugh, all this rain means we can't work right?” Kogane leant against his elbows and glanced around the table with a troubled frown. “We only get paid for what we do. I guess it feels like bad timing since I've decided when I'll be heading off.”

The off-hand announcement turned the attention of the entire table on him. “Is that right?” Kinoshita clapped him on the back with a laugh. “Guess that send-off will come earlier than we thought.”

Kogane yelped, almost knocking over his drink, but he caught it before it could spill. “Yeah, I was thinking about next week. But with all _this_ ” – he gestured to window where the rain lashed against the shutters – “what’s the point?”

Narita set his bowl down, swallowing his mouthful. “Don’t get so down, kid. It’s just rain.”

“You could check the billboard in the town centre?” Sawamura suggested. “I think they've posted a few new things that need doing around here beyond the repairs. But it's good to hear you've got something in mind, Kogane-kun.”

Kogane beamed at the praise. Their meal brightened, and Iwaizumi felt the atmosphere around the table relax. He ate and listened as the group made plans and Kinoshita roped them all into what he called 'a proper send-off'.

Iwaizumi worked on plans of his own as they ate. They wouldn't send Kogane off drunk or hungover, and Kinoshita's idea was set to fall a day or two before Kogane's departure. That didn't give Iwaizumi too much time, but certainly enough to catch him before he left.

His letter was tucked away in a drawer in Oikawa's bedroom, addressed to a residence in the northeast of Datekou. All it needed was delivering. All Iwaizumi needed was a little discretion. The town talked, and Iwaizumi had never sent a letter before. Gossip like that would reach unwanted ears sooner or later. No, Iwaizumi couldn't take that chance. Asking Kogane for assistance was his only current option, even if Kogane was the least discreet person he had met since Hinata.

Iwaizumi brought his cup to his lips and drank away doubt. If he caught Kogane before he left, there wouldn’t be time for him to gossip. Whose business was it if Iwaizumi had the sudden urge to send his 'cousins' in Datekou a message? Iwaizumi set the cup down with a sigh.

~*~

Kogane was staying in one of the outlying inns while he was in town. It was by no means the Woodbine, but it was pretty busy despite its state. Windows were still broken from the passing raids and the building still bore scorch marks from the fires, but at least it stood.

Iwaizumi stepped around the crowds of people taking shelter from the rain the day before Kogane was set to leave, dodging elbows and avoiding feet. Kogane’s room was on the second floor, up two flights of sticky steps and down a dimly lit corridor that Iwaizumi had half dragged a stumbling Kogane through the night before. The send-off party had been a success, and Iwaizumi had taken advantage that evening to escort Kogane home and learn what home was.

Iwaizumi slipped through the crowds and activity unnoticed, taking the stairs two at a time to the floors above. If his memory served him right, Kogane's door was the second last before the back wall.

Iwaizumi stood before it and raised his hand to knock, pausing just above the faded wood. What if Kogane said no? He’d be back to square one with no real plan. The tang of copper reached his tongue and Iwaizumi released his lip from between his teeth, rapping his knuckles against the door. _Only one way to find out._

The sounds of shuffling came from inside, followed by a clunk, a yelp, and several muffled curses. Iwaizumi sighed. That was definitely Kogane. The door swung open to reveal the kid’s harassed expression, a toppled travel pack, and the items scattered out across the floor behind him.

“Ishida-san?! Why are you here— I mean, come in, come in! What can I do for you?” Kogane pushed the door open wider and stepped back.

Iwaizumi took the invitation and stepped inside, stepping around the fallen items. “You look like you're all packed up and ready to go?”

Kogane shut the door and spun around. “Ah... I was just putting the last things away! I mean, like this, I can see everything laid out.”

Iwaizumi nodded, a smile spreading across his face. With a grumble and a sigh, Kogane bent down to pick everything back up. Iwaizumi knelt to help him.

With the floor clear, Kogane dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed, gesturing Iwaizumi to the small chair at the corner table. The rush of the rain against the shutter slats blew harder. “I'd offer you a drink, but I don't think I want to look at alcohol again for another year at least.”

“Kinoshita was... enthusiastic,” Iwaizumi said with a grin

“You're too nice. Do you know that? I hope y’know that.” Kogane leant forward on his knees. “So, what brings the house call? What can I do ya for?”

Iwaizumi drew a deep breath and cut to the point. “I have a favour to ask.”

Kogane’s eyes narrowed, squinting at Iwaizumi. “Why am I getting the feeling you don't want this to leave the room?”

“I’d prefer it.”

“…Just how big’s this favour?” Kogane narrowed his eyes further. “Why me?”

Iwaizumi pulled out the letter from the inside pocket of his damp jacket, smoothing his thumbs along the crinkled surface with the hint of a prayer. The ink was still dry.

“Small,” he answered. “I just need this delivered to the address on the front, unopened. I'll pay you, of course, for your service.”

“Service?” Kogane laughed and leant back off of his knees. “Favours ain't a service, Ishida-san.”

“No, I guess not. But the offer is still there.”

Iwaizumi waited, tracing the wax seal as Kogane thought the offer over.

“Why are you asking me? Because I'm leaving?”

“Because you're travelling close to the area it needs to go,” Iwaizumi explained, turning the envelope around to show the address. “There's an apothecary in the northeast district of Datekou. It’s out of your way from the capital. The money will cover the travel cost, but they'll be happy to feed you and more when you get there.”

“Hnnh... You're really pushing the bribery here.”

“I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you were the right man to trust.” Iwaizumi sat back against the wall and glanced to Kogane's travelling pack. “But I wouldn't want you travel that far without being reimbursed. It's repayment for a favour that's taking you out of your way.”

“Didn’t you say you were heading to Johzenji? Can't you deliver it on the way?”

He shook his head, memories of rose-touched hair and sleepy eyes floating up. Iwaizumi dropped his gaze. “I won't be travelling through Datekou. But I do have cousins who live there who would appreciate hearing from anyone left in Seijou. I can’t be a bother to them.”

“Surely family would want to help.”

The bed creaked, and Iwaizumi glanced up to catch Kogane looking out to the window. Datekou held more than the merchants’ guild for Kogane; it held the last of his family. Iwaizumi pushed the memory from his mind, guilt bitter on his tongue as he replied, “They… had a child last year.”

Kogane’s head whipped around. “Oh!? A boy or a girl!?”

Iwaizumi laughed and brought his hand up to cover the sound. “She's a healthy baby girl.”

“Congratulations!” Kogane brightened, his light saturating the shadows that masked Iwaizumi’s half-truths.

“You could tell them yourself if you deliver this.”

A grumble escaped Kogane. He frowned down at Iwaizumi. “Wait, _wait_. What's stopping you using the postal service?”

“Would you trust it, with the way things are these days?” Iwaizumi raised his eyebrow and held his gaze. “There are things I don't want reaching the wrong people. But, if you're not sure that you're capable of doing this, I'll ask someone else—”

Kogane blanched. “Of course I'm capable! I can deliver it, no problem at all!”

Iwaizumi pressed on, scepticism on every word. “Are you sure? You don't seem too confident in that.”

“I am!” Kogane jumped up from the bed and marched over. “I'll deliver it personally, quick as a flash. Trust me!”

Iwaizumi held the letter away. “And you're _certain_ I can trust you?”

“One hundred percent, Ishida-san! I'm your man!”

Iwaizumi lowered his arm and stood, tension stiff in his legs. He let his shoulders drop and handed over the letter.  “You're a good kid, Kogane-kun.” Iwaizumi reached up to clap him on the shoulder. “You've done nothing but work hard since you got here. I'm proud of you.”

Kogane held the letter close, gaping at Iwaizumi. “Th-thank you! I wanted to help, I've lived here for so long, it seemed right to do. I mean, you wanted to help too, didn't ya?”

“I did. I'm glad I was able to give something back to my country.” And though there was comfort brought by the gradual repair of this small corner of Aoba Johsai, it did little to heal the reality that he had been complicit in its downfall. He stepped aside and pulled a pouch from his pocket, tossing it on Kogane’s bed with a jingle.

“You don’t—”

“I have confidence in you, Kogane-kun,” Iwaizumi told him again. “And hey, when you arrive, make sure they feed you plenty. Meal's on me.”

“I'll get this to them.” Kogane promised him. “You can bet your life on it!” Iwaizumi just clapped him on the shoulder.

He remained long enough to see Kogane tuck the letter away and re-pack his bag before wishing him farewell and good luck on his journey. No doubt he would be saying goodbye again come dawn alongside the others who had befriended Kogane in his short time here. That part would be easy. The waiting afterwards would be another matter.

Iwaizumi left the inn with guilt settled heavy over his head. All those lies had slipped from his tongue so easy. When had it become natural for him to lie? At least he didn’t have to lie about Kogane to Kogane. He was a good kid, and he had done a lot for the people in this town. He had plenty to be proud of.

Iwaizumi made his way back home under a bleak twilight. Oikawa needed him there. Whatever would come of the weeks ahead would have to wait until the night was over.

~*~

_Matsukawa,_

_If you're reading this, then my friend came through for me. I know you'll thank him for going out of his way. Be nice._

_I'm sure you've heard about the state of the country? The King is dead and K. has assumed control. Old news, I know._

_I'm writing from the NW S. border. Where your other half once stayed that summer. I'll be travelling N within the month. Send a reply the usual way. She'll know where._

_Ishida._

~*~

Bright lights on Oikawa's lids. The desperate screams were absent, as were the tight hands around his limbs. The dull pain remained, maintaining its steady pulse through every bone and muscle, but distant.

The brightness, warm across his face, streaked colour in their wake in dazzling formless shapes. He shifted away, and the world moved with him with a lurch. Oikawa cracked open his eyes, his lashes barely parting as sunlight assaulted his vision. He clenched them shut again.

Oikawa's new world was a blur, nothing but coloured forms and faded outlines. The room swam, nauseating. No creatures reached for him, no figures approached. Something swayed, and a breeze blew, gentle and cool across his skin.

Oikawa closed his eyes and let exhaustion take it away.

 


	3. To Stand Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, huge shout out to [Yuutfa](http://yuutfa.tumblr.com/) and [Carrie](http://carriecmoney.tumblr.com/) for helping to proof and edit this <3 I'm also super excited to update the first two chapters with some great art by [CC](http://ohohohobro.tumblr.com/)!

_Ishida,_

_Are you still alive and kicking? Hope you’re still in one piece by the time this arrives. Your friend was a hurricane. Excited to hear all about our recent ‘blessing’. Lucky for you, Manaka-chan was nearby with the little howler._

_The rumour mill is on fire. If there’s any truth in those flames… Well, you never did stray far from trouble with him at your side. We don’t need to tell you to be careful._

_Call in that favour with your next reply; it’s been a long time coming. You know where to find us._

_Matsukawa._

~*~

Dark clouds masked pale sunlight overhead. Though rain threatened to pour, the only rumble came from Iwaizumi’s stomach. He placed a hand across his middle and willed it to shut up.

His scowl deepened with every step to push the cart forward. The wheels sank through sodden earth and dragged his speed to a crawl. Iwaizumi shoved. The cart jolted from his grip and toppled, sinking further into the mud while the junk inside tumbled out.

“ _Shit_.” Iwaizumi’s shoulders fell. He clicked his tongue and bent to right it and replace the contents, muttering, “As if this day could get—”

He froze, grip tight around an old decorative signboard. The white paint, once smooth and vibrant, now dripped mud back into the puddle beneath him. Iwaizumi traced the letters, fingers at odds with the faded white surface, black and brown from tip to knuckle.

Memories of green and blue danced in his vision, bright sparks of magic that once gathered at the tips of Oikawa’s ashen fingers. The sign fell from his hands with a sharp clatter.

“Ishida-san!” Iwaizumi spun at the call. “Oi! Everything all right there?”

Narita bounded over, clearing the last few meters between them with a wave. Iwaizumi raised a stiff hand and urged his racing heart to slow. The splash and grind of the wheels had smothered even Narita’s approaching footsteps.

“Had trouble?” Narita’s boots squelched, sucked beneath a puddle.

“It’s _fine_.” The words left too quick. Iwaizumi cringed. “The wheel’s stuck.”

Narita knelt to check the damage. “I think she’ll live. Let’s get her out of this ditch.” With a few angled tugs, the cart came free, and Narita smacked his hand against the wood with a laugh. “Sturdy thing. I think she’ll take more of a beating than this.”

Narita stuck to his side as Iwaizumi rolled the cart onwards, eager to catch him up on some news. He soon lost himself to the white noise of Narita’s voice, too occupied with contemplating the dangers of daydreams to listen to mundane tales. Another careless mistake wasn’t worth the cost.

His thoughts fell to the abandoned house at the edge of the forest, far away from the wreck of the flooded farm. Oikawa slept soundly, unguarded, alone. After a week of observing Oikawa’s vacant stare boring holes into the wall, being absent too long ate at his nerves.

A hand against his shoulder tore him from his thoughts. Narita winced.

“Sorry, you were about to walk straight past the site.” He worried his lip and studied Iwaizumi with a frown. “Hey… you doing okay? You’ve been pretty out of it all day.”

Iwaizumi set the cart down into the patchy grass and rubbed at his neck. “It’s nothing,” he answered, too tense to curb his terse reply. He picked up a damp shovel and turned to the dumpsite.

“If you say so...” Narita’s frown lingered, but he walked on without further question. “Here’s clear.”

They emptied the cart onto a charred base of dirt and debris. Stakes of wood and slabs of wall stood high above them, held together by rotten sludge left over from the season’s crops. Narita sighed as they threw on the last of the load, rolling his neck with a grunt. “They swept away most of the damage before we even got here. Town sure was a lot bigger.”

Iwaizumi eyed the debris as Narita picked out a scrap of charred cloth. He swallowed, throat dry in the cold air as he remembered Matsukawa’s holiday letters and Hanamaki’s praise of the annual summer festival. “I can imagine it was a lively place.”

“Well, it’s picking back up, what with the new traffic coming through.” Narita let the scrap fall and balanced his shovel against shoulders. “This town’s nicely out of the way. Makes sense that the refugees chose it. Less hassle, less security.” He slid his gaze to Iwaizumi, eyes too bright in the gloom. Iwaizumi looked away. “I hope some stick around; settle down permanent like.”

“Yeah.”  

“Well don’t sound too enthusiastic there, Ishida-san.”

Pitted against the rest of his worries, enthusiasm came with a struggle. “Sorry.” He lifted his head and pulled the cart away from the dumpsite, ready to leave the vision of the old town behind. “It’d do a lot for the country if people settled again.”

“I guess if you’ve lost everything, it must be hard to start over.”

“Yeah… It is.”

Narita let the shovel drop to his side, silent as they returned to the main path. Face after face, Iwaizumi flicked through the people of Aoba Johsai. From strangers in distant cities, to the castle staff and market stallkeepers, many and much had been lost.

If Oikawa hadn’t survived that day… Iwaizumi stamped out the intrusive thought. A lot was gone, but they could always rebuild. They just needed the resolve.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi raised his voice above the slosh of water under their boots. “We’ll get back on our feet. The people of Seijou are strong. My country will return from this.”

A bright smile broke across Narita’s face. “Hells, that’s a relief! That’s exactly what Karasuno’s hoping to hear.”

Iwaizumi slowed his walk to stare at the back of Narita’s head. “What does that mean?”

“Something good, I hope.” Narita glanced over his shoulder to Iwaizumi, grin wide with reassurance. “I’ll let you know when I get more information, but… Aoba Johsai’s going to be in good hands. She’d better live up to your words, Ishida-san.”

“I – She will?”

\- - -

The setting sun warmed Iwaizumi’s back in a square the shape of the bedroom window. He ran his thumb along the inside of Oikawa’s wrist as his distant gaze slid towards him, more movement than in a week. A hopeful thrill passed through Iwaizumi’s chest.

“Can you hear me?” Oikawa fingers twitched against the sheets, eyes searching for a focal point. Iwaizumi let slip a sigh. “That better be a yes. News is coming from the army, but you need to be awake when it gets here.”

Oikawa shifted, but the only response came in the form of a chirp atop the window ledge; Manaka’s beak clamped around the body of an unsuspecting spider with a crunch. Iwaizumi grimaced and looked away.

“These people have been far too good. To me, to this town. I don’t know what to make of them.” He raised his free hand to cover his mouth and released a tense breath. “They’re dangerous to be this close to… Should have taken the chance to become a hermit when I had it.”

The mattress shifted beneath his elbows as Iwaizumi lifted his head. He caught the draught through the boarded window and lowered his hand, letting the chill soothe the throbbing behind his eyes.

“I’d ask what you would do, but given your recent record of choices...” Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “What _would_ you do, Oikawa? What will you do…”

Oikawa’s eyes fluttered shut, and moments passed before his breathing evened out against the faded pillow. Iwaizumi released his wrist and relocated to the old desk.

The next hour slipped by in relative peace, save for quiet trills of Manaka by the window, her feathers ruffling in the light breeze, and the scratch of Iwaizumi’s pen against yellowing paper.

Narita’s words turned over in his mind. _Aoba Johsai in good hands_. What were Karasuno’s plans for the country? The arrival the new units approached and they wouldn’t relinquish control so soon. Iwaizumi pressed his cheek into the cool wood of the desk and stared at Oikawa’s bed.

He would find out once Narita did. Contemplating the unknown only added to the headache. He sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose and watched as the fire grew thinner, the darkness deeper.

~*~

Oikawa woke to a continuous stream of noise somewhere to his right. His lids dragged as he tried to clear the blur from his vision. A dark room, lit softly in orange, greeted him. Small. Unfamiliar.

The scent of rain blew in from the window, bringing welcome relief to Oikawa’s flushed skin. The breeze also brought recognition. Darkness swayed next to the bed, and Oikawa’s eyes jumped to the movement. No claws reached out, just the gentle sway of hair where someone— _Iwaizumi_ rested against the wall. Oikawa traced the changing shapes of shadows against his profile, until the flicker of the fire caught his eye.

He tried to turn, but weight of the sheets pinned him to the bed, his body too weak, too slow to respond to each command to just _move._ Oikawa fell limp. No will to fight.

Distantly he noticed the throb, the muted press of pain against his limbs. He pulled away, but the discomfort followed, chased him where he could not hide. Escape called him back to the edges of sleep and Oikawa listened. The world faded out with the fire.

Time stretched on in brief shots of sleep and lucidity. The foreign room now sat cast in grey, the creeping chill of the air prickling across his skin. The hiss of rainfall fell harder, harsher than before, and Iwaizumi still slept, thin blanket slipping from his shoulders.

Oikawa caught movement through minutes. Iwaizumi's head rolled back along the wall and the sheet fell to pool into his lap. His eyes cracked open, thin slits in the darkness, where he stared ahead unseeing.

Iwaizumi’s name sat at the tip of Oikawa’s tongue, voice buried in his throat. The first syllable escaped and fell like gravel over stone. The second fell no smoother, rough and quiet, a low whisper lost to the rain.

Iwaizumi's eyes fluttered and a frown furrowed his brows. Oikawa tried again. The slip of _Hajime_ , tired and broken, snapped Iwaizumi’s head to face him. His lips parted, eyes wide.

Oikawa imagined himself smiling. Iwaizumi turned his whole body towards the bed in a heartbeat. He sat on his knees, mouth searching for words as he gripped the covers.

“You're— Are you—” Iwaizumi stopped himself, arms tense atop the bed. “Tell me I didn't imagine that? Oikawa?”

Oikawa met his eyes with a whisper on his lips.

“Hi...”

Despite the dark circles surrounding them, Iwaizumi's eyes lit up, bright as the stars they had once seen from the castle towers. They shimmered and Iwaizumi glanced away, blinking hard. When he looked back, Oikawa caught his smile.

The quilt dipped and Iwaizumi's hair brushed his skin, warm against his arm and warmer still where calloused fingers touched the back of his hand. Movements sluggish, Oikawa turned his palm and coaxed their fingers to link, falling back to sleep to a murmur of _thank you_.

~*~

It felt like a dream. Iwaizumi stood outside the door and found himself unconvinced that Oikawa would be conscious the next time he entered. Yet, as the door swung open and his eyes locked with hazel—lucid, aware, awake—the reality grounded him, rooted him to the earth with the stability of an undeniable truth.

There was no stronger relief than the recognition on Oikawa’s features. The tension fell from Iwaizumi’s shoulders as he stepped through the doorway and shut the door with his heel. Even the rain couldn’t wash the wide smile away.

He placed the jug in his hands on the desk. “How you feeling?”

His lips twitched as Oikawa’s parted with a passing flicker of confusion. His voice cracked around his answer, coughing with a sharp wince.

“ _Awful_.”

Oikawa's broken voice washed cold over him, dousing the bright sunshine like ice water. There was nothing to celebrate yet.

“You have a lot of injuries…” He sank to his knees by the bed and traced the bandages around his arm with his fingertips. “Awful probably doesn’t cover it.”

Oikawa followed the motion and curled his fingers into the fabric of the sheets. “What… What happened?”

Iwaizumi lowered his eyes. “You need to need to drink something.”

“Hajime…”

“No.” He pushed away from the bed, standing to fetch the jug. “I’ll tell you, just… let me do this first.”

Oikawa remained silent as Iwaizumi brought a chair over to the bed and set the pitcher by his side. His questioning stare remained insistent, following Iwaizumi’s every move.

“I’m going to sit you up.” He placed a hand against Oikawa’s shoulder. “It’ll hurt, but you’ll only end up choking if you drink laying down.”

He received a short nod and Oikawa closed his eyes. Iwaizumi was unprepared for the flinch, far too used to manoeuvring Oikawa’s unconscious body. The catch of noise that escaped Oikawa’s throat shot ice through his stomach.

“Shit. Sorry.”

“S’fine…”

He settled Oikawa against the pillow, a makeshift blanket bundle adding height. Oikawa took shallow breaths, wincing with each inhale. When he re-opened his eyes, they shone in the sunlight, glassy and wide.

Words caught in his throat. Iwaizumi slid his hands away to retrieve the jug from the floor. He filled an empty cup with lukewarm water and held it towards Oikawa’s mouth.

“Here.”

Oikawa made no move to drink. Instead, he lifted his arms from the covers. They hovered in the air, unsteady and shaking, before dropping back into his lap. Iwaizumi lowered the cup with a sinking disappointment. An expectation built from nothing, fell as fast as the excitement that created it.

“You’ve been healing fast,” he told him, offering the water again, “but not _that_ fast. Let me help you.”

Oikawa’s brow creased. He eyed the cup and gave a small nod, defeated where Iwaizumi expected resistance.

Water fell from Oikawa’s lips. He drained the cup all too quick and Iwaizumi’s warnings of ‘ _slow down_ ’ fell on deaf ears. He pulled the cup away, unsettled at the idea of Oikawa choking after coming this far. “Don’t know why I thought that’d be easy...”

He never expected to take comfort in his complaint, a fond habit long lost and rightly welcomed. Oikawa licked his lips and tilted his head towards him. Iwaizumi put the cup aside and picked at the covers, adjusting them in an effort ignore the insistence of Oikawa’s stare. It would be easier if they could—

“Iwaizumi.”

He stopped fighting. “You don’t remember.”

Oikawa turned his head, closed his eyes against his answer. “No?”

“You lost an important fight.” The understatement was ridiculous. “And you’ve been unconscious for… for too long.”

“Important…” Oikawa’s eyes flashed open, all at once far too awake. “Where are we?”

“Seijou’s northern border.”

Iwaizumi watched the cogs turn in Oikawa’s head. He tensed his legs against the chair and waited for the pieces to click into place. Minutes passed. Oikawa looked towards him, confused and lost. Sick relief flushed through Iwaizumi when little else followed but a tired question.

“I don’t understand?”

“There’s a lot explain.” _Too much_. He picked at the loose splinters on his seat. “I don’t… You’re exhausted, Oikawa. I’m not going to drop that much on you right now.”

“No. No, that’s not what I—” Oikawa stopped with a hiss of breath, eyes scrunching shut. Whatever fight had been building drained away like the sunlight. Iwaizumi leant forward to adjust the support behind his back until Oikawa’s thin hand drew him away. “I’m tired.”

“I know.” Iwaizumi pulled his arm to his side, stung with the dismissal. “Get some rest. I won’t… I’m not going anywhere.”

\- - -

True to his word, Iwaizumi stayed, only straying far enough to collect the dried wood from the shed outside. There was something odd about staying in the house so long after too many days in blackened fields, saving for a journey yet to come. Iwaizumi stretched out across the kitchen table and idly stroked the soft feathers across Manaka’s breast.

“What do you do all day, Manaka-chan?” She nipped at his fingers, nibbling her beak along the edge of his knuckle, before returning to her feathers. Iwaizumi sighed. “Be patient. You’ll fly soon enough.”

Manaka fluttered her wings. Her feet tapped across the table surface until Iwaizumi returned to smoothing out her feathers. She was a funny thing. Even on their first meeting all those years ago, Manaka showed little care for their company. Unlike her master— Ujiie Manaka, whole and _human_ —their personalities sat at a contrast.

Iwaizumi huffed into the arm pillowing his head, enjoying the happier memory. But as the minutes ticked by, Manaka grew bored and restless. Wings aflutter, she hopped from the table and flew out to the hall with a trill. Iwaizumi sat up and ran a hand through his hair.

“Guess that’s my cue to get up.”

Oikawa slept on, angled away from his injured side. The position looked more than a little uncomfortable. Though the floor fared no better. Hardwood dug into Iwaizumi’s legs as he took a fire iron and poked at the fire.

The bed creaked, and a groan of pain muffled the rustle of the blankets. Iwaizumi looked up from the hearth. Oikawa stared out over the edge of the pillow, dazed and vacant. Anxiety seized Iwaizumi’s heart, skipped beats against his chest. Only a moment passed before Oikawa eyes closed again, shallow breaths and body still. Asleep. Iwaizumi released his grasp on the iron's handle. He set it down and breathed.

A sharp scatter of paper hit the floor and Iwaizumi started upright. He turned to catch the bluster of Manaka’s wings landing on the table top. Heart in his throat, he glared at the bird. She chirped and plucked at a thin feathered quill, black against her brown.

“ _Really?_ ” He stood to pick up the mess.

As he tidied, he calmed, and the worry bred fear slinked back into the shadows. He shuffled Manaka off from the table, ignoring her squawk of protest. He almost missed the weak whisper of his name.

Iwaizumi glanced over to find Oikawa staring at his back. He set down the pages. “You’re awake?”

Not quite right, he thought. Oikawa seemed to be teetering on the edge, the moment between blissful sleep and the call of daylight. His eyes slipped shut as he spoke.

“You’re here…”

“Where else?” He sat by the bed, waiting, but Oikawa remained silent. Convinced he had fallen back to sleep, Iwaizumi stood to finish tidying. A quiet voice stopped him, and plunged his heart into his stomach.

“You left.”

“I came back.”

Oikawa turned his head against the pillow with a weak hum, and Iwaizumi stood from his crouch. He scratched at his knuckles, cast back to a time where words were thrown and threats were fulfilled in a vacant throne room two years ago.

“Oikawa, I—”

“Thank you.”

Iwaizumi shut his mouth with a click of teeth. Nodded when words failed him. His feet carried him to the desk before he realised he had fled, as if the unfurled charts would somehow release the hand around his throat. 

By the time Iwaizumi lost himself to plotting paths on maps long since memorised, the sun had sunk low in the sky. The remains of dinner sat cold on the desk, half eaten and picked at. So engrossed in his searches, Iwaizumi failed to notice the shuffling from the bed until a grunt met his ears.

Oikawa’s arms shook, braced against the mattress to push himself upright.

“Oi.” Iwaizumi jumped up to set Oikawa against the pillows. “Take it easy.”

Oikawa flinched with every breath and pulled his hand up to his chest. “As if… I have a choice.”

“Call it a holiday from causing trouble. You’ve slept all day.” Oikawa flicked his eyes to the window. The sun shone pale through a falling, thickening fog. Manaka wouldn’t fly tonight. Iwaizumi sighed and stood back from the bed. “You need food. I’ll get a bowl. And… try to eat something.”

The ‘stew’ was mostly water, a thin stock made from an animal Iwaizumi was happier not knowing about. He didn’t trust Oikawa’s stomach to handle anything heavier, though he sorely needed the meat on his bones.

Oikawa’s hands shook around the bowl. He kept it in his lap and only brought it to his mouth to drink with Iwaizumi’s help. The spoon had long since joined the rest of the unwashed cutlery cluttered on the table.

Oikawa licked his lips and watched the liquid swirl. “Never saw you as a farmer.”

Iwaizumi huffed and let his head rest back against the wall. “I’m sure you’d enjoy that image.”

“Hm… I have a stronger image of a knight.” Iwaizumi straightened. “What happened to the castle?” Oikawa asked.

“What do you remember?”

Oikawa raised the bowl, sipped awkwardly around the quaking rim to bide his time. Iwaizumi steadied his hands.

“News. I had news about the hero.” Oikawa lowered the bowl and scratched his nails against the wood. “Kuroo had taken one of the orbs… There was a plan?”

Iwaizumi remembered the flash of red fabric. Their total defeat as Kuroo spilled secrets like casual conversation. He remembered the red halls of the castle and the rematch that brought them the Orb of Effort, and one step closer to Oikawa.

“The hero won, right?” Oikawa asked. Iwaizumi found no bitterness in the question. Resignation, defeat, but no anger. “I’m tired… not an idiot.”

“We fought. The orbs were united again… and Hinata shattered the lot of them.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened and the bowl tilted in his slack grip. Iwaizumi caught it before it spilt across the sheets. “That’s—”

“Madness? Yeah, it was.” Iwaizumi frowned. “But it worked.”

Silence settled between them. Iwaizumi waited for more questions to follow, Oikawa’s curiosity never so easily sated. Yet, none came. Oikawa stared out through the window, past the gaps in the boards, towards the curling mist. His shoulders fell, and Iwaizumi almost saw peace.

“What happens now?”

Iwaizumi took the bowl from his hands, only a mouthful left. “You rest. Recover. We’ll work the rest out from there.”

~*~

Days passed, and Oikawa’s appetite grew. His stomach adjusted to heavier meals, and Iwaizumi soon found the pantry thinning. Anxious to be rid of the sight of hollowed cheeks and ribs, he made certain that Oikawa ate his fill. Sleep, eat, rest. Repeat.

Between short sentences and brief answers, Oikawa made little effort for conversation. The foreign silence grew and grew, and Iwaizumi found himself at a loss. He sat beside the bed, curled up on the floor between the fire and the wall as Oikawa murmured to the mynah bird perched on his knee. Manaka flitted from one foot to the other whilst Oikawa tapped his fingers in a stiff dance.

Outside, the fog had lifted, and with it came the clear skies that Manaka preferred to fly in. Iwaizumi’s newest letter sat tucked secure between the leather of his armour and his chest. He tilted his head back against the wood and looked up to catch Oikawa’s eye.

“You remember the first time Matsukawa left for three weeks? I think we were twelve…”

Oikawa crooked a shaking finger under Manaka’s beak and stroked her feathers. “Mm… A holiday, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. To the northern border.”

Manaka nipped at Oikawa as he paused. A single ‘ _ah_ ’ of understanding falling from his lips.

“I’m going into town today. Food’s run low, and what keeps, I’ve been storing.” He couldn’t guess when they would finally be able to travel, but rotating rations and stocking the small farmhouse had become a habit too valuable to break. “I’ll be a few hours at most.”

“Well,” Oikawa smiled, a small and rueful thing, “I won’t be going anywhere. No need to worry.”

“Years too late for that.” Iwaizumi pushed up from the floor and raised an eyebrow as Manaka bounced back across the sheets. “You coming to stretch those wings?”

Oikawa snorted as Manaka cocked her head with a barrage of chirps and trills, mimicking laughter. Iwaizumi held out his hand and she took flight, landing with a fluster against his shoulder. He turned back to Oikawa. “Are you sure—”

“Yes.” Oikawa sighed and leant back into the thin pillows, eyes already halfway shut. “I’ll sleep. Really, I’m tired.”

Iwaizumi gave a short nod and left. He shut the door, as quiet as the rusted handle would allow. Manaka shifted against his shoulder, her head bobbing with each step down the stairs until Iwaizumi grabbed his cloak from the hallway hook.

“Ujiie-san will be waiting,” Iwaizumi turned his cheek to the bird, collecting his pack. “Don’t keep her too long this time. I know the weather isn’t great.”

He locked the house behind him and set off for the woodland path that lead to town. Not wanting to leave a trail to their safe house, the main path remained untouched. The ground crunched beneath his feet. Iwaizumi pulled the cloak tighter over his chest and trudged onwards through gravel, mulch, and the icy autumn breeze. Manaka hopped from her perch, flying ahead into the trees, and Iwaizumi marched forward without worry. She would never fly too far. Duty bound her essence and kept her by his side.

The woods began to thin, parting into a small clearing just wide enough to catch the low sunlight. Iwaizumi's whistle cut through the air and Manaka landed with abnormal grace on a nearby branch, dancing along its length with flutter of wings and song.

“Alright, alright,” Iwaizumi pulled out the letter, so small yet so important in his hand. “The sooner you stay still; the sooner you can head off.”

Manaka chirped and remained still long enough for Iwaizumi to attach the letter around her leg. She settled her chatter as Iwaizumi stroked her feathers and gently traced a finger down her back. “Stay safe, Manaka-chan.”

She took flight as Iwaizumi held out his arm, a bluster of brown and grey against the tree line and the pale blue sky. Iwaizumi watched her fade from sight and pulled his hood up over his head. Nothing to do now but wait. Turning back into the woods, Iwaizumi continued to town.

\- - -

The noise grew as Iwaizumi closed the distance between the pathway and the gates. He tugged at his hood and kept his eyes to the ground. The path opened into a large square, the noise reaching its peak amongst the crowd in the middle. A clamour of people surrounded the small market area that made up the town centre; a collection of visiting merchants, refugees, and the remains of the town's livelihood.

Iwaizumi dodged a foot and stepped away from a stray dog skulking after peoples’ heels. Ahead of him stood three cramped stalls offering various produce from vegetables to herbs, most of which were imported. Though they had tried to salvage what they could from the ravaged fields, the results had not been nearly enough.

Coin after coin, Iwaizumi spent his allowance on wilting food. He was two steps away from a stand of hanging meats, more questionable than he cared to investigate, when a voice called his name from the path.

“Ishida-san?”

He lifted his head to meet brown eyes and hair.

“Misaki-san.”

Her shoulders fell and her face lit up. “I thought it was you!” She set her apple back in her basket and hurried over before Iwaizumi’s feet could see him flee. “I’d heard you’d up and left without a word. I couldn’t believe a rumour like that, you don’t seem the type.”

“Thank you?” Iwaizumi tugged at his collar, pulling it higher. “The, uh, weather got to me.”

“Oh,” Misaki’s brow wrinkled as she leant in closer. Iwaizumi resisted the urge to back away. “No, you should be home resting.”

“Planning on it.” His glance flickered to the stall nearby. “Don’t let me keep you. I wouldn’t want to get you sick—”

“Hana!” The familiar voice cut him off. Kinoshita jogged up behind Misaki. “You wouldn’t believe the prices they were charging at that waggon.”

She whipped her head towards him. “I told you they were terrible.”

“Yeah, you were right...”

Iwaizumi took the moment to step away. It would be easy enough to slip into the small crowd with the next passing group whilst they nattered. An elderly woman hobbled past and Iwaizumi took his cue to leave.

“Huh? Oh! Wait, Ishida-san!”

“Ishida?”

 _Damn it_. He paused mid-step and glanced over his shoulder. “Didn’t want to interrupt, but I need to finish up and head back.”

Kinoshita eyed him with a wide growing grin. “We thought you’d gone and left us.”

“Just been sick,” he shrugged a shoulder and hoped that weather had at least left his cheeks red. “I should get back.”

“You don’t need—”

“Let us give you a hand.”

Iwaizumi balked at the idea, he just wanted to leave, and now. “Not necessary, but thank you.”

“Nonsense,” Misaki joined his side before a groan could even escape him. “What have you got left to get?”

“Just meat and a few things from the apothecary.”

Kinoshita reached over to pluck the basket from Misaki’s arm before it could be knocked over by a child running away from the neighbouring stall owner. “If it helps, my aunt’s selling soup this week. We could drop some off at your door. Or you could join us, I’m sure the others will be glad to see you about.”

Iwaizumi shook his head and backed towards the stall he had been kept from. “Thank you, but I’m still not feeling great.”

“Then when you come back to work?”

He lowered his hand over a sparse crate and frowned. He would need to return, wouldn’t he? It was far too soon to move Oikawa, and with Kinoshita now able to share news of Ishida… Iwaizumi sighed and picked up a parcel of wrapped meat, waving for the stand owner. “Yeah. Give it a couple of days.”

The hour dragged until Iwaizumi’s pack sat heavy against his shoulders and his stomach growled. Blessedly, the sound went unheard. Iwaizumi coaxed his unfortunate entourage towards the gates and by some miracle they seemed to catch on.

“I think we’ve kept you long enough,” Misaki said with a weak smile. “You get better soon.”

Iwaizumi adjusted his cloak, scratching at his neck along the collar. “Thanks for the help, Misaki-san, Kinoshita. I’ll be seeing you.”

Kinoshita sighed and glanced at the gates. “Are you sure we can’t bring you anything? Hell, Ishida, a fair few folks would have offered a hand if you let them.”

“I appreciate it, but there’s no need.”

Kinoshita’s frown deepened. He gave a curt nod and raised a hand. “Be seeing you.”

Iwaizumi turned away, throwing his own hand up in parting, ready to see the back of the town for the kindness sorely lost on him. He drew a breath of cold air and released it with a tired groan. Why did they have to care?

The thought haunted the journey home, feet heavy over how Ishida had integrated _too_ well. It was just a job. A temporary lifeline. How could he return with Oikawa still bedridden? The crooked awning gave no answers, but still, Iwaizumi counted the cobwebs in earnest.

~*~

Iwaizumi pushed talk of work to the back of his mind until he could stay the matter no longer. He sat by the fire, working his fingers into an old blanket as he explained about the town's repairs, and the cost of time that would keep him from the house. Oikawa, seeming less than thrilled at the idea, claimed he understood. Iwaizumi wasn’t so sure.

“I really don’t need a nanny.”

“It’s not that simple, so don’t just shrug it off.” A thread tore beneath his fingers. “You can’t even walk yet. Not like you can reach that far either.”

“Just leave me a basket of food and I’ll cope.”

“Right.” Iwaizumi levelled him a flat stare.

“…It’s not like you haven’t left me to my own devices all this time.”

Iwaizumi sighed, shifting his weight. “Yeah, because you didn’t need a ‘nanny’. A physician on the other hand...”

Oikawa looked away from the window. “I’m sure I’ll last a few more hours.”

The bite of Oikawa’s voice should have resonated somewhere in Iwaizumi’s mind, but he paid it no heed, too used to a lifetime of terse commentary.

“I’ll just work in the afternoon, and have the morning to make use of myself…” He dropped his head against his hand and groaned. Why was nothing ever simple? The fire crackled and Iwaizumi tugged at his hair. “As far as anyone else cares, I’m still ill. This’ll do.”

Oikawa offered no comment. Iwaizumi sat back up and looked to the bed. Oikawa had pushed himself against the wall, covers too high around his collar. He flinched and shut his eyes.

“Hey… If you need something for the pain, just say so.” Iwaizumi stood and laid the blanket over the leg shaped mound of sheets. He reached for a corked bottle on the table. Liquid amber sloshed against the glass and sparkled in the sunlight. “Here, it’s a new bottle. You don’t just have to endure.”

Oikawa slid the covers down and glowered over his shoulder. “I’m fine. Just let me sleep.”

“Oikawa.”

“Please.”

Iwaizumi tilted the bottle and glared at the bed sheets. “You’re a terrible liar.” The cork popped easy under his hands, and Iwaizumi leant across the bed to place the opened bottle on the window ledge in easy reach. “If it gets too much, drink it.”

“Later. The sun’s high.” He turned his face into the pillow. “You should get going.”

Iwaizumi sighed. There was no use arguing. Once Oikawa cut him off, there wasn’t much to say. Iwaizumi tugged the lining of his cloak snug around his collar and departed.

The walk to town seemed longer than usual. Iwaizumi found the team camped out on the southern edge with their lunches across their laps. He raised a hand as Narita caught sight of him and jabbed an elbow in Kinoshita’s side.

“Ishida!”

They welcomed him back, questioning his health and fortune with a concern that rubbed raw against his conscience. No one argued the matter when Iwaizumi admitted that he would be working shorter days until his health recovered.

“Never mind the hours,” Narita told him, handing him a mallet and the beginnings of a fence. “You’re right on time.”

Iwaizumi’s questioning glance was left without answers until lunch was over. They packed up and ushered Iwaizumi down an old, familiar, beaten path.

Ahead of him lay the fields, barren of the burnt wrecks that had once stood in jagged spires and lopsided hazards. The earth lay flat, cleared of debris, and Iwaizumi stood in awe before the view. A clean slate. A fresh start.

“But that’s not the best part.” Misaki laughed, nudging her elbow against his arm.

They led him down a path that connected to the broken end of old homes and forgotten allotments. Iwaizumi looked on in wonder at the new boundaries, finished walls, and of all the things, a wreath above each of the five new doors.

“What do you think?”

Iwaizumi pried his eyes away from the sight and struggled to find the right words. “You’ve… This is going to give so many people back their homes.”

“They’re not quite finished yet.” Misaki guided him to the end of road where the last house stood still, littered with building materials. “One plot, almost ready. We’re going to take advantage of the cleared field land to build anew but… I think we’ve got the makings of something.”

He nodded, stolen of words as emotion welled in his throat. His country was healing, and the evidence was blinding.

“Well, let’s get to work. It’s not going to finish itself.”

Narita hollered by his ear and they were off, Iwaizumi with more spring in his step than he’d felt in months. Even the presence of Sawamura couldn’t bring down the high, but as the afternoon progressed into evening and the work wore on his arms, the elation faded.

Kinoshita had vanished with Narita some time ago, and Misaki’s chatter could no longer distract from the curious glances shot his way by Karasuno’s captain. Iwaizumi’s skin itched under the scrutiny.

“How’s your health handled your return?”

Iwaizumi scrubbed at his cheeks and stacked the last of the tools into their containers. “It’s coped. Things ache more than I thought.”

“Sounds fair.” Sawamura’s chuckle morphed into a chatter, shuddering from the breeze. He peered at the horizon, and Iwaizumi followed his gaze. Two pinpricks glowed in the distance, figures taking form as they grew closer. Kinoshita and Narita wheeled a barrel between them, steady on a low rolling cart.

“Huh…”

“Kinoshita’s aunt had a gift to send us. Something to celebrate the towns first completed repair.” Sawamura explained, waving off to the distance. “Town folks have worked hard. You too.”

Iwaizumi slid his gaze from the approaching delivery to Sawamura ahead of him. “It’s certainly something to celebrate.”

The small barrel turned out to be a deep cask, secured on a wheeled board that Narita parked up against the work wagon. A hot waft of apples and berries steamed from the lid.

They sat around the wagon, perched on thinning stacks of boards and stationary carts, laughing in the cold. Iwaizumi listened, happy to lose himself to the sound of Misaki’s stories from the early days. There was something comforting about being surrounded by the people who had put as much love and care into the town as Iwaizumi had desperately tried to at the castle. Where his own efforts failed, they had succeeded. It was… nice. Promising.

The group began to part, folks leaving for the warmth of their beds. Iwaizumi envied them, if only for a second. He stood and made his way to the edge of the path to admire their work in the lamplight.

The scent of cider caught on the breeze, too far from the centre to come from the cask. Steam rose in the corner of his eye and Sawamura approached with a warm mug and a laugh. Iwaizumi’s nerves caught in his chest.

“Snagged another before the others could drain the lot,” he said with a grin and offered the mug to Iwaizumi. He took it, the heat brought life to his numbing fingers. “We’re lucky to have the Woodbine.”

“Seems like it.” He brought the mug to his lips and let the cider warmth seep into his skin and try to ease his worries. It had been nigh impossible to miss the looks, the frowns, the lingering questioning glances thrown at him throughout the day. He had to take the offensive.

“You’ve been stationed in this town a while, Sawamura.” Iwaizumi threw a look to the guard. In warm wool and a homemade scarf around his neck, he resembled nothing of the striking image of the crows of Karasuno. “Not trying to speak out of turn, but it seems a bit below your rank.”

An even smile lifted Sawamura’s cheeks. “Were you expecting an armoured patrol when you found out?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s easy to stand around in uniform, enforcing law and leadership.” Sawamura shook his head. He scuffed his feet along the muddy planks and sat down with a groan. “It’s not so easy to stand by when people are picking their lives up from smoking buildings.”

Iwaizumi considered the skyline, the sloping roofs shadowed against deepening grey. There was no need to imagine the rising tendrils of smoke with the very real memory burnt into his mind. He shifted his feet and joined Sawamura on the floor.

“But you have a connection to this place… to the Woodbine.” He held the mug between his knees and traced the rim. “It’s easy to be noble with a motivation like that.”

“Maybe so, but it stands to reason that it’s better to act than to not.”

Iwaizumi cast him a glance. How far did that sentiment stretch throughout Karasuno’s ranks? Sawamura caught the doubtful frown. He sighed through a weary grin. “Regardless of the motivation, by doing this we can make a clear difference.” He tapped a toneless beat along the surface of the mug. “We can show Aoba Johsai that they can forge a strong relationship with Karasuno. I think that counts for something, don’t you?”

Iwaizumi mulled the answer over as night fell and the stars blinked out behind thin trails of cloud. They drank, warm despite the creeping ice, and an almost comfortable silence settled. Iwaizumi brought the mug to his chin and breathed in the fruit tang.

Aoba Johsai had reached the end of an era, and a thousand greedy hands could have picked them clean. But Sawamura’s words rang true and fair. At least here, in this pocket of their small world, new life reached up through the rubble. The town grew each day with new hope built through opportunity. Still, doubts lingered. This was only one town of many, and Iwaizumi held no illusion that all would be well across the country. He set the mug into the earth beside him and breathed crystals into the air.

“Ishida.” Iwaizumi turned his head, catching the shadow of a frown that marred Sawamura’s forehead. “You've also hung around much longer than you needed." Iwaizumi's thoughts halted. He lifted his eyes to the clouds as the cold clutched his chest. "Are you really continuing on to Johzenji?"

"Why do you ask?"

Sawamura's feet scraped the dirt, stretching his legs. "Many people have travelled greater distances with a lot less prepared."

"And how well did they fair?"

"Who's to say?" Iwaizumi caught the turn of Sawamura's head, his watchful gaze too close, too knowing. Sawamura continued, "Are there people waiting for you? Or is this just a fool’s quest?"

Iwaizumi swallowed. "Who's to say? Most quests are foolish."

"I won't deny it." Sawamura laughed and confusion crept into the back of Iwaizumi's mind. "You've been great for this town."

"I've only done what I can."

"And? You've worked earnestly.” He reached over and clapped a hand over Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “You’ve certainly made an impression here, Ishida."

Ishida. Only Ishida. Iwaizumi pushed the thought away, carving his fingers in the freezing dirt beside his leg. It did little to ease the burning sting under Sawamura’s hand.

"I'm sorry," he sighed and let Iwaizumi go, leaning back to stare at the sky. "I'm not too great with deep talks, but you really _have_ made an impression. We could do with a guy like you up in Karasuno."

Iwaizumi hummed— stopped. He snapped his head to Sawamura as the world ground to a sharp halt. " _What?_ "

Sawamura cleared his throat, sheepish. "The team has taken a real shine to you; you're a good man, Ishida." He shrugged a shoulder and sat straighter. "I might be overstepping, but I’d like to offer you a place. We’d be happy to have you with us. Not every honourable act needs to come from wielding a sword."

Words failed. Sawamura swiped the earth from beneath him with kindness alone. The fear that the truths around Ishida had been unearthed crumbled under this concern. He swallowed.

"I can't."

Sawamura lifted a hand to rub at his jaw, scratching at stubble. "If you're worried about coming from Aoba Johsai, I wouldn't. We're trying to build relations here, and honestly, you would be good for that. Though…I suppose it might be easier to admit my own selfishness in the matter."

"Sawamura, you don't—"

"I just don't want to see you wandering in search of a lost cause. You'd have something permanent with us." Iwaizumi opened his mouth to argue, but Sawamura held up a hand. "At least tell me you'll think about it before saying no."

Iwaizumi turned back to the skyline with a heavy heart and reeling thoughts. "I… I’ll think about it."

Sawamura lifted his forgotten drink and downed the rest with a decisive hum. Iwaizumi tipped his own into the grass.

A whole new life, ready and waiting and promised to him— to Ishida, in Karasuno. The idea latched on with as much terror as it did elation. His stomach sank at the realisation. If he had been anyone else...

With a bitter smile, Iwaizumi returned his gaze to the stars, counted them as they snuck through the gathering clouds that had thickened from wisps. A new life already waited for him. A home with friends, a family, raised on the foundation of something older and familiar. Datekou held their future, and he would enter that with Oikawa by his side.

And as for Ishida… a different path awaited, lost to the roads as so many traveller's fates would lead. Iwaizumi closed his eyes, chest aching with connections soon to sever. He didn't deserve these people, this friendship born of lies. No one was ever meant to get this close.

Iwaizumi stood, stiff and cold. "Let’s go. Rain’s coming."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank [Yuutfa](http://yuutfa.tumblr.com/) for taking time out of their super busy life to actually go through and edit this for me. They didn't have to and I'm insanely grateful. I'm also going to take this moment to rec another FHQ fic I absolutely adore! It's called [Phoenix](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4958452/chapters/11386054), and it's written by [Jackidy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackidy/pseuds/Jackidy), so make sure you check that out as it's a Fukurodani wonder.
> 
> Edit: As of 07/01/17, & 24/02/17 mass edits have been made to the first & second chapter, with a huge tone of thanks to [Carriecmoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carriecmoney/works)! I am beyond grateful, and if you haven't checked out her HQ!ATLA series, you're missing a treat :D
> 
> [CC](http://ohohohobro.tumblr.com/) has done some wonderful art for this fic, included in the chapters, that has had me yelling all year <3 You can see them on tumblr [here](http://ohohohobro.tumblr.com/post/151631802121/brick-by-brick-ch1-from-the-ground) and [here](http://ohohohobro.tumblr.com/post/152433067066/brick-by-brick-ch2-i-shall-rise)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Kings and Crows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5960428) by [BlackDragon41](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDragon41/pseuds/BlackDragon41)




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